


Indomitable Wills

by Ciarasteina



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Humor, Badass Dwarf Women, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Body Worship, Digital Art, Dream Sex, Druffalo, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gift Exchange, Hilarity Ensues, Horseback Riding, Hot Spring, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Erections, Jealousy, Love/Hate, Lucid Dreaming, Massage, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, NSFW, Nicknames, Oil, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Porn With Plot, Rescue Missions, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Shame, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Torture, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Varric Doesn't Do Horses, Violence, injuries, now with art!, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciarasteina/pseuds/Ciarasteina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Dalish elf awakens in Haven's dungeons.  The impact from the explosion at The Temple of Sacred Ashes completely erasing her memories.  The only thing she knows, and not even for certain, is that her name is Ciara.  That, and the mark on her hand is killing her and she will not die.</p><p>*NAME CHANGE!!! Was "Who She Is" *</p><p>*Now with Art in Chapter 14!!!  Thank you Agregor from DeviantArt!!!*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> A huge Thank You to DeviantRhapsode and Crystallyne, without whom this would never have passed from my twisted mind to my computer. Also special thanks to my wonderfully supportive husband and sister. Who, even though they hate the series (I know, right?) are willing to pre-read my chapters and give me pointers from a non Dragon Age gamer.

So much pain! 

She heard herself moan, incoherently, from the agonizing pain throbbing through her head, into her shoulder and radiating out of her left palm.  She tried to open her eyes and, seeing nothing but blinding white, snapped her eyes shut again, focusing on her other senses instead. 

It smelled dank, the smell of a cellar.  A darker, more malicious scent was delicately wafting in the air:  death. 

She listened with her pointed ears for any clue as to where she was.  She could hear water dripping.  She thought she heard someone breathing, but it was so quiet it could have just been her heartbeat rushing in her ears. 

She was beyond cold.  Shivering violently, she cringed when she realized she could not feel her toes.  She hoped fervently that her feet were still there, not frostbitten or injured beyond feeling. 

Moving on, she felt cobblestones under her aching knees.  Her knees, she was kneeling.  Well that was something. 

Her hands felt heavy in her lap.  She tried to move them but her left hand refused to move, angrily shooting a spike of pain up her arm.  Her right hand moved mere inches before it was suddenly stilled by the sound of chains and the feeling of metal cutting into her wrist. 

She opened her mouth to groan and tasted blood.  Her chapped lower lip splitting with the action, adding to the already metallic taste on her tongue.  This was not good.

Someone coughed, she was definitely not alone. 

Licking her pained lips, she managed to barely squeak out. “Hello?  Is someone there?  I need help, I think I've been injured!”

Straining her ears as much as she could without causing more agony, she could hear whispering.  “... awake... seeker... breach...”  The rest was lost to her.

“Help me, please!” She strained to croak out the plea as loudly as she could, which was barely more than a whisper.

Nothing.

She slit her eyes open, daring the blinding light to go away.  Slowly, the room darkened impossibly.  Blinking rapidly, she realized she was, indeed, not alone.  Looking around her, she saw six large men surrounding her in a circle, swords drawn, and pointing... at her.

Glancing down, she saw her clothes were too big to be her own, she had been washed and redressed in hideous tan and green clothing.  Beyond that, she saw her hands, bound in heavy chains, keeping her knelt to the stone floor, a heavy metal bar between her wrists kept her hands separated.

Looking up once more, casting her gaze from side to side, she began to notice her surroundings. 

Definitely a dungeon.  She was chained in a dungeon surrounded by armed guards!

Panic rising like bile in her throat, she desperately looked around for something she could use for self defense.  Something to help her escape.  Nothing was within her reach and even if she were surrounded by weapons, her shackles demanded her hands remain in her lap.

The throbbing in her head was easing away, making it easier for her to think.  But she could not.  Where was she?  What happened?  Why was she imprisoned? 

Another question struck her like a slap to the face:  Who was she?

Before she could think on that further, a door in front of her slammed open, and the light streaming into the room felt like a sharp spike in her already blinding headache.  She blinked and looked ahead to see two armed and armored women stride in, moving directly to where she knelt.  The redheaded woman stopped in front of her, while the raven-haired woman slowly circled her like a wolf preparing to take down her prey.  Bending at the waist, the dark haired woman leaned in close to her and asked:  “Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now.”

She spoke more, but all that was heard by the prisoner was the first sentence.  She trembled, believing these were her last waking moments alive.  Then she realized both women were staring at her expectantly.

Feigning more courage than she actually held, she said as loudly as her damaged throat would allow.  “Look, I don't know what happened, all I do know is I woke up here with a blinding headache, chained to the floor like some animal!  Can you tell me why that is?”

Reaching down, her interrogator grabbed her pained left hand and growled in a low, threatening voice “Explain this”.

As if summoned, the hand exploded in eerie green light that crackled like lightning.  She instinctively threw her own body away, as if her hand was something possessed.  Maybe it was.  She had never seen anything like that and knew it was not natural to her.

Unsuccessful in her attempt to separate her hand from her body, she held her arm away from her as far as she could as the woman started her slow stalk around her again.  “I... can't.”

“What do you mean you can't?”  The prisoner realized her interrogator had a thick accent unlike her own.  It sounded familiar, but she did not know why.  She was too busy staring at her hand on the sword at her hip to think on the pettiness of accents.

“I told you I don't know.  I don't remember... anything”  She barely had time to cringe as movement suddenly flew into her vision, hands gripping her flimsy tunic.  “You're lying!” She spat in her face.  As quickly as the hands appeared, they left.  Another, softer voice spoke. “We need her Cassandra!”  It was the redhead that spoke. 

So, Cassandra was the taller woman's name.  Small consolation for her situation, but any information made her closer to try to escape.

“Look, I'm as confused as you are.  Please release me and I'll help you find whoever did it.  Although I still don't know what you think I did.”  The lie felt so smooth on her tongue, she nearly believed it, herself.

Staring directly in her face, the redhead asked “What do you remember?”  Moving within a breath's distance, she spoke softly “Think carefully.” 

To most people, that would have seemed like a small act of kindness.  The feather-soft voice may seem gentle and kind to the untrained eye.  But the prisoner picked up on the underlying threat:  If she didn't have any useful information, she was as good as dead.

An image flashed with a spike of pain.  She began narrating as she saw the images for the first time, as though she had no control over her words:  “Running, things chasing me.  And then... a woman?  She reached out to me, but then...” The vision ended as suddenly as it started, leaving her eyes to readjust to the darkened room.

“A woman?”  The redhead said, sounding incredulous.

Cassandra lead the other woman away.  “Go to the forward camp, Leliana, I will take her to the Rift.”  The redhead strode out the door, leaving her with Cassandra, who for some reason, didn't frighten her nearly as much as the other woman.

More information: the other woman was Leliana.  And she was going to be led somewhere.  Great!  A chance to escape this nightmare.  But to where? Where would she go?  She had no idea where she came from, what she was doing.  She clamped her eyes shut and quietly, like the sound of a breeze, she heard a name in her head.

“Ciara.”  She murmured, barely more than a whisper.

“What did you say?” Asked Cassandra.

She looked up, into her eyes confidently.  “My name is Ciara.  I'm fairly certain, anyway.”

Cassandra swiftly walked up to Ciara and knelt down.  The bound woman leaned back, afraid of an impending attack that did not come.  She started to unchain Ciara.  Amazed she was being freed, she summoned the courage to ask what happened. 

Helping the woman up, understanding that she probably had had no circulation to her legs for some time, Cassandra allowed Ciara to lean on her, saying “It would be easier to show you” as she tied her hands together with a length of twine and led her out of the dungeon.

Thankfully, albeit painfully, Ciara began to regain feeling to her calves and feet.  The tingling feeling like hundreds of small daggers being pressed into her body with every step.  Shortly, the pain relented into a tickling sensation that she could barely contain.  Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling, this wasn't the time or place to start laughing if she wanted to save her life.

She hobbled beside Cassandra's lengthy stride, up a walkway and into a brighter lit, much larger room.  Huge double doors ended on one side of the room, and smaller single doors dotted the other end.  She led Ciara to the large doors, opening them to the world outside.


	2. Latent Abilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, super thanks to Crystallyne for correcting every little grammatical error I missed writing this at 2am. Her patience is amazing! Another shout-out to my husband, sister and mother. All of whom don't play the game (my mother not even understanding the content of this piece at all) but still willing to sit down and give me ideas. More importantly, everyone has given me the courage to keep posting! Thank you all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciara continues on her way to the wreckage of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Along the way, she learns more about herself, even if her past is still lost to her. She comes along a stoic bald elf, a frustratingly funny dwarf, and a man in a lion-shaped helm. All of whom react to the prisoner in vastly different ways.

**Chapter 2:  Latent Abilities**

Just when Ciara thought the worst of her migraine was behind her, she was thrust through the huge doors of the stone building into the sunlight.  Squinting her eyes, blinking furiously, she tried to adjust her vision as it swam in painful tears. 

Even with the blinding light, out of the left corner of her vision, she saw a green light that looked as unnatural as the light emanating from her palm.  Glancing upwards, towards the sky, she openly gaped at the sight.

The blue, cloud-flecked sky was torn.  There was a swirling mass of green light filtering down from the tear, disappearing behind the nearby mountains.  She did not have to look back to her hand to be convinced that the two were linked.

As she stared, a loud crack sounded through the air, igniting the agonizing pain in her hand, forcing her to her knees and stealing the air from her lungs.

Cassandra stepped to her, kneeling at her side. “It opened with the explosion of the Conclave.  We call it the Breach.  It’s a portal to the Fade realm, allowing demons to freely enter our world.  It is not the only one, just the largest.  It has been constantly spawning smaller portals we’ve called rifts.   It grows larger every day, as does the mark on your hand.  If we do nothing to stop it, it will consume the world, but not before your mark consumes and kills you.”

Looking at Cassandra’s face, she saw the desperation barely hidden behind suspicion. 

Suddenly, escape was the last thing on Ciara’s mind as she recovered from the shock that was easing from her hand.  She knew if she were to live long enough to escape, she would have to do something about this “Breach”.

Standing back up, she looked around, taking in her surroundings as Cassandra started leading her forward.  She was in the middle of a rather small village, it seemed.  Snow covered the ground around her and there was a definite chill in the wind.  Surrounding the village on all sides were tall snow-capped mountain peaks.  At the foot of the village was a large, frozen lake.

Faces everywhere were staring at her, the cold mountain air creating small puffs of fog from their breaths.   Some of them wore the same look of desperation she saw in Cassandra’s face, others with an open hatred that was nearly palpable on Ciara’s tongue.  All looked like they were in some degree of pain.  Nearly all of the exhausted looking people wore bloody bandages in various locations, or bore already healing scars.  She caught fragments of murmurs, all of which were damning, all of which were about her.

Choosing to ignore the pained wails from what she presumed was the surgeon’s tent, Ciara stepped forward as fast as her feet would take her, without trying to seem as if she were fleeing, subtly encouraging Cassandra to move faster. 

As if sensing her discomfort, the tall woman sped up, lengthening her stride so that Ciara nearly had to jog to keep up.

As they walked down the path and across a bridge strewn with bodies wrapped in linens, Cassandra explained how there was an explosion that killed everyone in a meeting called the Conclave.  She explained how this meeting held all of the highest powers between the warring groups decimating all of Thedas.  The Revered Mother, Leader of the Chantry, The Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, as well as the Knight-Vigilant of the Templar Order, dead.  All killed in the explosion of the Conclave, thereby ending any possible peaceful resolution between the 3 factions.

Cassandra stopped Ciara and stood to face her, drawing a dagger.  “There will be a trial, I can promise no more.”  She cut through the twine surrounding Ciara’s wrists and then called out to the nearby guards.   “Open the gates; we are heading into the valley!” She turned and continued through the far gates of the bridge.  “Before we try your mark on the Breach, we should clear the way of demons, and test to see if you are capable of closing the smaller rifts.  We will make our way to the forward camp.  Leliana will be waiting for us there.”

As they sped along the beaten pathway in the mountains, the sky crackled loudly and the mark on her hand flared, causing her to cry out and fall to her knees.  Cassandra helped her up, yet again, patting her on the shoulder like a small child “The pulses are coming faster now.”  Ciara’s heart began to race, believing she was that much closer to death. 

They were crossing another bridge when the sky above them shattered, lightning striking the ground in front of them.  The bridge crumbled beneath their feet, sending them tumbling through the air.

Luckily the fall to the frozen river below was only a dozen feet or less.  Still, the elf had no time to plan an efficient landing, and crashed hard on her right hip, along with Cassandra and a wagon full of equipment that had been crossing the bridge at the same time. 

Cassandra regained her composure immediately, drawing her sword and shield.  Wondering why she was arming herself, Ciara looked beyond her and saw a black ghostly figure seemingly crawl out of the ice itself.  Smoke enveloped the creature’s lower extremities, if it had any, as it glided toward Cassandra.  It reached out with its long, sharpened claws.  “Stay behind me!”

As Cassandra started swinging and bashing at the shade, another one crawled up from the ice between the two women, looking directly at Ciara.

She looked around her desperately, and from the fallen wagon, saw a mass of weapons.  Grabbing the closest things to her, she palmed 2 daggers and faced the monster stalking toward her.

She feigned a left dodge while shifting her right leg back to push off, tricking the shade to head to her left.  She slipped under the shade’s swinging arm, pushing a dagger into the left shoulder of the creature, using her momentum to swing behind it, reaching around its head and slicing its throat deeply.  She unstuck her left dagger from its shoulder and reinserted the blade where the heart of most living creatures should be, before kicking off its back to disengage herself from the conflict.

The shade lurched forward before slipping back down into the depths of the frozen river.

Ciara wiped the black and green viscera coating her daggers on her cloth pant legs, realizing for the first time that she was without armor.  She turned to assist Cassandra, only to find herself face to face with the wrong end of her sword. 

“Drop your weapons, now!”

Ciara lifted an eyebrow “Are you kidding me?  That thing would have killed me if I didn’t find these daggers.  Unless you can guarantee my safety, I think I’ll keep them if it’s all the same to you!”

Sighing, Cassandra slowly put away her sword and shouldered her shield “You’re right, perhaps you should be armed.  It is your life on the line, after all.”

Ciara took a moment to dig through the rest of the destroyed cart, fitting two found scabbards to her belt to slide the daggers in.  As she began to turn, she noticed a rather nice looking longbow and a matching quiver full of arrows.  Slinging them across her shoulders, she returned to Cassandra’s side, continuing their assent up the mountain.

Turning a corner, she began to hear the telltale sounds of a fight, and Cassandra took off in a sprint “Hurry up, I can hear them fighting!”

“Who’s fighting?  Leliana?”

Cassandra didn’t bother to reply as they sped around another bend in the pathway, giving Ciara a visual of the noise source.  Several men were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with four shades.  A smaller rift was glowing angrily behind the mob, tendrils of green lightning flickering out of its center. 

As the women neared, Ciara could see bolts of frost flying through the air toward their target, one of the shades.  Her ears also picked up a strange pinging sound accompanied by soft “thunk” a moment later, like a bow letting loose it’s arrows, but faster than any bow should be able to. 

Cassandra and Ciara jumped down a small decline, running into the fray.  The combat was too close for her bow, so Ciara ducked and dodged through the masses, slicing along all the spirit-like forms with her new daggers.  Finally, breathless, all of their foes seemed defeated. 

Standing to gulp in air, a bald elf grabbed her tingling hand as she sheathed her weapon and thrust it into the air toward the rift in front of her.  It was tiny in comparison to the one at the top of the mountain in the distance, but still far above her head.

“Quickly, before more come through!” the elf cried.  Ciara felt a strange warming sensation tease her wrist from the man’s grip, coaxing her hand to react, and react it did.  A green cable of light instantly connected between her hand and the rift, snapping loudly as a low whine became increasingly loud.  The pain in her hand from the mark spiked more strongly than ever before, and would have taken her to her knees if the man holding her wrist had not been holding her as tightly as he was.  She nearly cried out in relief as there was a loud crashing sound and the rift collapsed in on itself, releasing her from her agony at the same time she yanked her hand away from the strange man.

Looking at the elf, incredulously, Ciara cradled her left hand “What did you do?”

“I did nothing, the credit is yours,” grinned the elf.

Looking Ciara in the eye, he explained how he surmised since the rift and the mark were of similar magic, her hand may be the key to closing the rifts.  Proudly, he proclaimed himself to be correct.

He was studying her face intently, a look of wonder he did not bother to conceal.  “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Ciara found herself staring back at the man, as she heard a gruff voice behind her speaking.  She spun to see… nothing.  Then she glanced down and saw a short man with a blonde ponytail smiling back up at her.  “Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and occasional tagalong.” He slid his gaze to Cassandra with a sly wink. 

Oh great, a cheeky dwarf.  Who would have heard of such a thing.

Thinking that he may have come from the village she had been imprisoned at, Ciara asked; “Are you with the chantry, or…?”

She was surprised to hear chuckling behind her from the elf. “Was that a serious question?”

“Technically I’m a prisoner, just like you.”  Varric admitted openly.

She may just get along with this dwarf, after all.  Then Ciara noticed the machinery over his back.  It was a folded crossbow, unlike anything she could have imagined.  “That’s a nice crossbow you have there.”  She was more than a little intrigued at its design.

Varric sighed, casting a loving glance over his shoulder at the weapon.  He described how Bianca, his crossbow, was special and would be excellent company in the upcoming fights, much to the chagrin of Cassandra who immediately rebuffed him.  Varric stood firm, refusing to return to the village which she then learned was named Haven.

From behind her, she heard the elf speak.  “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.  I’m pleased to see you still live.”  The last statement shocked her eyes wide.  

Varric put his hand on her arm. “What he means is you’re welcome for keeping that mark from killing you as you slept.”

Glancing between the men, she ended her spinning vision on Solas, a staff on his back indicating he was a mage.  She stared at him, unbelieving that this arrogant elf had actually helped her survive.  Suddenly shy, she murmured a “Thank you, I’m Ciara.” before reverting her eyes away and moving beyond him.  She was eager to end his ceaseless staring at her face.

“We’re almost there, I hope Leliana is alright.” Cassandra took up her post at Ciara’s side.

Varric chuckled behind them. “She’s resourceful, Seeker, I’m sure she’s fine.”

As they continued toward the forward camp, Solas commented from behind her. “I see you’re Dalish.”

“I’m what?” Ciara glanced back, quirking an eyebrow towards the sky.

Solas looked bemused. “You’re a Dalish elf, you have the vallaslin.”

Stopping their trek to look him face to face, Ciara glared at the man.  “Like everyone else around here, I have no clue as to what you’re rambling on about.  All I’m doing is stopping this thing from killing me, whatever it is.”

Solas’ face shifted from a grin to a frown.  “You… you don’t know your past?  You lost your memories?  Could that be a result of the explosion?”  He cast his gaze on Cassandra.

“Do not look at me, apostate.  This is not my field of expertise.”

Solas returned his eyes to Ciara, studying her face.  He suddenly reached into a pouch at his side, producing a small mirror.  He held it up to her face so she could see herself for the first time since she’d awoken.

Dark green arches, curves, and lines were etched into the skin on her face, disappearing into the neckline of her tunic.  The markings matched her emerald eyes, contrasting wildly with her wavy, dark red hair.  Ciara stared in wonder, grasping the mirror from Solas’s hand to study herself more closely.  She traced a line with her finger, mouth agape.  Of all the faces she’d seen thus far, none carried these marks.  “What does this mean?”

Solas gently took the mirror from her and explained. “It’s called a vallaslin, or blood marking.  It’s a trait of the Dalish elves to supposedly honor the Elven gods.”

She shocked Solas by scoffing loudly.  “Well now, isn’t that something, or perhaps nothing?  At least it matches my eyes.” She spun around again to face the cliff’s path ahead of them, silently letting her mind reel.  “We’ll worry about this once this whole thing is over.”  Once again, she set off, leaving her three companions to exchange glances behind her back before trotting after her.

Further up the mountainside, the group of four could see another set of gates, in front of which, another small rift was spewing out shades and smaller ghostly green creatures.  The demons appeared, and immediately began to attack the soldiers nearby. 

After defeating the waves of enemies, Ciara flung her hand up to the rift, calling on her mark to surge.  Surprisingly it did as she commanded, closing the rift quickly.  She was prepared for the pain this time, and blocked her mind from feeling most of it.

Afterwards, as they passed through the gates, Ciara could see Leliana leaning over a table, an angry looking man standing beside her, arguing with her loudly.  She had to give the man some credit, he had more courage than her to argue with that woman.

Leliana motioned to Ciara “Chancellor Roderick, this is…” 

The man looked directly at her.  “I know who she is.  I order you to take her into custody immediately, to face execution!” he demanded.

Her hands flew to her daggers, but Cassandra put a calming hand on her shoulder.

“Order me?  You are a glorified clerk!” cried Cassandra.

The bickering went back and forth, before Ciara stepped between them. “Have you forgotten the Breach in the sky?  That is the most pressing matter at the moment!”

“We should go with the bulk of our forces up the pathway into the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where the most damage from the explosion was.  From there, we should be able to get close enough to the Breach.”  Cassandra was pointing at the green funnel coming from the sky.

Leliana pointed at the map. “There is a safer way, a mountain path.  It would only hold a small number.  You four should be just fine on your own, no need to risk the prisoner to a direct advance. ”

“I disagree.” came Cassandra’s reply.  “We’ve lost contact with a crew of scouts up there.  We know not what to expect along that path.”

Both women looked at Ciara as Cassandra asked her opinion.  “I have confidence in your army.”  Not actually knowing anything about said army, but not trusting her safety surrounded by more soldiers, Ciara continued. “We should take the mountain path.  Good scouts are harder to come by, we should make sure they’re safe.” 

Pleased with her decision, Leliana grinned at Ciara, a look that made her want to shift a little away.  “Spare no time, you should leave immediately.”

Cassandra sighed, but led the way towards the staircase, leading off of the main path, heading up the face of the mountainside.

After scaling several ladders, the group caught their breath on a landing at the top of the mountain and faced a darkened cave mouth.  The caverns and tunnels had apparently been an old mine shaft. 

They had to clear a few demons out of their way, but made quick time through the underground passages, back out into sunlight on the other side of the mountain peak.  They found no sign of the missing scouts, until they heard the sound of a rift crackling and people fighting some distance down the dirt path they traveled.

Quickly, they ran to the fighting, seeing a small group of people all wearing similar garb, as they fought off the demons coming from the rift.  Ciara was confident that these must be the scouts Leliana was looking for.  They were only fitted with small daggers, not nearly enough to protect themselves against such enemies. 

Cassandra flung herself at the shade closest to the scouts, impaling it in one hit with her longsword.  The others quickly dispatched the remaining scouts as Ciara closed the rift. 

“The pathway back to camp is safe, go now!”  Ciara pointed to the caverns they had cleared as she looked further down the hillside and saw another open rift in the distance.

“There’s another one!” 

Sliding down the slope, the group had to clamor over some boulders before they could reach the rift that Ciara had pointed out at the top of the hill. 

Being this far away, Ciara unshouldered her bow, nocked an arrow and sent it flying.  It burrowed into a shade’s eye, downing it in one hit.  They continued to fight as a tall man in a helmet made to look like the face of a lion, complete with a reddish-brown mane, turned to face the group.  He pointed his sword at Ciara’s face.

“What is _she_ doing here, unchained?” Ciara heard the man say in Cassandra’s direction.  She was tempted to “accidentally” miss her next shot as she quickly reloaded her weapon.   Instead, she loosed the arrow directly over his shoulder into the throat and out through the spine of the tall, thin and hideous demon that had pulled his hand back to decapitate the lion-man.  A spray of black-green goo from the dying demon narrowly missing him as he quickly sidestepped, raising his impressive shield quickly. 

He had assumed the arrow was for him, as it had come close enough to his head that he swore he felt the wind shift.

Ciara stepped forward several steps, her bow passively held at her side to not intimidate the edgy man.  She made quick work of closing the rift, snapping her hand closed, near to the man’s face.  “Apparently, I’m here to save you and your men’s asses.  You’re welcome.”

Cassandra stepped between them. “The prisoner may be our only chance at sealing the Breach.”

“Well, I hope they’re right about you, we’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.” Ciara could barely see the man’s golden brown eyes glaring down at her. 

Despite his impressive height, she was not intimidated by him.  “Well then, go help your men, and get out of my way.”  She turned on a heel and briskly walked in the direction of the Breach ahead of her.

Glancing back over her shoulder, expecting a sword in the back, she saw the lion-man tuck his shoulder under an injured man’s arm and half-carry him back toward the forward base.

As angry as she was at his words, she had to admire a man who would carry a wounded soldier from the battlefield.

Turning back to her task, she huffed a breath and stepped into what Cassandra told her was the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to update on a near-daily basis. Getting two chapters down has given me some much needed confidence. Thanks again for your kudos and comments! I've been thinking about this story for months, so it's very personal to me. I can't wait to reveal what our hero has in store for her!


	3. Closing the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara comes face to face with the Breach. She finds herself in battle alongside an arrogant human man in a lion's helm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, a special thanks to Crystallyne and DeviantRhapsode for helping me along this journey. Your talent and experience is invaluable to me! Another thanks to my hubby. He's always there to grin and bear my fangirl rants! I love you hunny!

**Chapter 3:  Closing the Breach**

Rounding a corner, the group came to a stop at the edge of a large crater.  It may have been a large, circular room at some point, but walls and pillars were strewn in every direction, in ruin. 

In front of them, at the bottom of the crater, was a rift larger than any they had come across on their way up the mountainside.  This one looked different than the rest.  It didn’t crackle, instead there was a low, incessant humming sound.  There were also no demons present for them to fight. 

The Breach itself slowly swirled far above the apparently inactive rift.

Behind them, a sweet as honey voice spoke.  “You’re here!  Thank the Maker.”  Ciara turned to see Leliana jogging toward them, and behind her, a whole squad of troops walked toward them, led by the lion-helmed man. 

“Have you come to stand between me and my target, again?”  Ciara sniped at the man.  He kept his gaze to the Breach above them.  “I’m here to help, in any way possible.”  He swept his sight to Ciara’s eyes. “Milady.” She cringed inwardly.  So, it seemed the man had found some manners, after all.

Cassandra stepped in front of Leliana, shifting her stare from her to the lion-man, giving them orders for the rest of the soldiers.  Then she returned to Ciara’s side.  “Are you ready to end this?”  She sounded frightened to Ciara’s ears, but her face was stoic. 

“I’m more than ready, but just how in the Fade am I supposed to reach it from here?”  She stretched her neck backward to gaze at the Breach. 

“No, this rift is the first, it is the key.”  Turning her head, she looked at the source of the voice.  Solas was not staring upward.  Instead his gaze was locked on the rift at the bottom of the demolished room.  “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

The word “perhaps” didn’t set well with Ciara, she wanted “definitely”, but she had no other options.  Actively choosing to put a little faith in the bald man, she moved her eyes around the crater, scouting a pathway down, then moved onward.

As the party slowly worked their way around the edge of the room, Ciara heard Varric and Cassandra talking about the glowing red crystals that dotted the walls and floors.  Solas added his opinion, making her think of his tone as being a lecture.  They called it red lyrium and it looked as if they were growing out of the stone itself.

Since neither person was giving advice about it to her, Ciara continued to work her way down the crater when she heard a loud, ghostly male voice coming from all around her.  “Keep the sacrifice still.”  Shortly after, a frightened female voice cried out.  “Someone help me!”  She heard Cassandra gasp, then say:  “That is the Divine Justinia’s voice!” 

Seeing no one to help, Ciara leapt down the last boulders to the floor of the crater.  As she hit the ground, the rift hissed loudly and Ciara’s left hand snapped and glowed an ominous green. 

Again, the woman’s voice sounded around them.  “Somebody help me!”

“What’s going on here?”  Ciara’s head snapped up, desperately searching for the source of the new sound.  Cassandra stepped up to her.  “That was your voice!  Most Holy called out to you, but… ”

At that moment a translucent image of a man and an elderly woman were projected into the large room, silencing Cassandra as everybody stared at the ethereal sight.

The man’s face was too hazy to make out, but the woman looked to be in formal robes, a large headdress adorned her head.  She seemed to be held in place, her arms stretched out at her sides, her feet seemingly dangled in midair.  A look of pain and blatant fear was clearly etched in her face.

Ciara gaped as she saw a ghostly image of herself run toward the two others, before skidding to a stop before them.  “What’s going on here?” 

Divine Justinia’s image tried to look in her direction.  “Run while you can. Warn them!” 

The man’s voice boomed overhead.  “We have an intruder.  Slay the elf.”

The images disappeared in a burst of white light.

Cassandra moved in front of Ciara.  “You _were_ there!  Is it true? What did we see?” 

“I don’t remember!  How many times must I tell you!”  Ciara said, barely lower than a shout.

Solas had moved to stand in front of the rift, its edges shifting violently in snaps, the angles ever-changing.   “Those were echoes of what happened here.  The Fade bleeds into this place.  This rift is not sealed, merely temporarily closed.  I believe if it is reopened and properly closed, it will be permanently sealed, closing the Breach.” 

Ciara laughed, openly.  “Wait.  Do I hear you right?  You want me to _open_ that thing?” 

Solas took a step toward her.  “Temporarily, yes.  But be wary, once it is opened, it will attract attention from the other side.” 

Cassandra stepped away.  “That means demons.  Stand ready!” 

Turning around, Ciara saw a row of archers on the lip of the crater, preparing their bows.  Several soldiers stood on the floor of the room, unsheathing swords and slipping their arms into their shields.  She saw Leliana several steps away, unshouldering an impressive bow, drawing an arrow from her quiver across her back.  The sound of ringing metal filled her ears and she turned to the sound.  The lion man had drawn his sword, preparing for battle with a practiced stance.  Noticing her sight was fixed on him, he gave Ciara a curt nod before returning his eyes to the rift.

Turning back to the rift, Ciara took a deep breath and took an arrow from her quiver.  Holding both arrow and bow in her right hand, she steadied her feet, raised her left hand high, and called on the mark to engage the rift.

The now familiar sight of the connection between her hand and a rift was coupled with a pain that was much more intense than any of the rifts she had closed up to this point.  It stole her breath as it pulled her toward its center, forcing Ciara to step forward or risk falling on her face. 

As she was about to scream in agony, the tension pulling her forward suddenly slackened, there was a horrendous snapping sound and the rift opened.  As Solas had predicted, a humongous creature jumped out of the open rift, shaking the ground as it landed. 

Immediately, Cassandra launched herself at the monster, screaming to draw its attention from the elf that had summoned it.  Ciara sprinted away from the demon, loading her bow as she ran. 

The lion-man motioned for her to stand behind him.  For once, glad of his presence, she obliged him.  She took shelter behind his mountain of flesh and steel, letting loose an arrow that struck the demon in the left flank, doing little to no damage.

Looking as if the arrow did little more than tickle it, Ciara followed Leliana’s lead and continued to fire arrows at the monster.  She heard Solas yell from across the room.  “Use your mark on the rift!  It may weaken it!”  Figuring it couldn’t hurt at this point, Ciara stood to the warrior’s side, lifted her hand and summoned the mark. 

The mark acted as if it was working to close the rift.  The connection was severed too quickly however, pushing back against the elf, causing her to stumble backward. 

Surprisingly, it did have a desired effect on the demon.  It screamed and lurched forward, landing on one knee and bending at the waist as if to catch its breath.  Taking advantage of its weakened state, the rest of the soldiers surged forward, swords slashing gouges into the exposed demon.  Black blood began to weep from the wounds, and the arrows being fired from the upper ledge of the room seemed to lodge themselves more deeply. 

As Ciara was about to step forward to fire her arrows, the rift poured out two smaller shades.  The new demons immediately headed in her direction, and the man to her side put his arm in front of her belly and urged her behind him once more.

Dropping her bow to switch to her daggers, Ciara and Leliana were quick to dispatch the two smaller demons, as the tall man drew their attention and used his shining shield to deflect their frenzied blows.  As soon as the last shade faded into the dust, Ciara turned her attention back to the monster that Cassandra and the others were fighting. 

It was now standing tall once more as it produced a long cable of lightning and crashed it down on Varric and Solas.  Both narrowly escaped being electrocuted.

 The dwarf did a rather impressive jump backwards, sending a flurry of arrows flying as he retreated.  Ciara was going to have to ask him about that move later.  The pale, bald elf seemingly disappeared for a moment, before reappearing a short distance away as if nothing happened.  He returned to his battle stance and threw up a faint green shield of magic to guard Cassandra from impending blows.

Seeing another opportunity, Ciara quickly sheathed her left dagger, noticing how achingly exhausted her arm and hand had become.  She stepped directly behind the lion-man and resting her arm on his shoulder for stability, called her mark once more. 

She was much more prepared for this backlash, digging her leg into the stone behind her to brace herself.  The rift snapped loudly again, refusing to close but weakening the demon further, sending it to its knees once again. 

Ciara felt her left hand was practically useless at this point.  She definitely was no longer able to handle her bow.  She redrew her dagger, using her remaining strength to grip it as hard as she could. 

She bolted around her human shield, directly toward the huge creature’s back.  As she reached its hindquarters, she launched her small frame onto its back, digging both daggers into its shoulders. 

The injured demon rose once more, the elf barely hanging on as she tried to scramble to the monster’s shoulders.  The multiple bleeding wounds on the demon caused Ciara a difficult time maintaining a grip, forcing her to use her daggers to anchor her in place as she climbed up its back.  In a fit of rage, it summoned another rope of lightning and flung it down in front of itself, crashing through Solas’ barrier and sending Cassandra sprawling across the ground.

Finally reaching the demon’s shoulders, Ciara hooked one leg over to hold herself steady as she reached as far on either side of the demon’s neck as she could.  She plunged her both of her daggers into the thick neck and pulled back hard. 

Black blood sprayed violently from the wounds as the demon spun to try and dislodge the elf.  She was sent flying backwards, rolling several times before coming to a stop on the ground.  The soldiers, emboldened by the insane display, rushed the creature, hacking at it until it fell, finally stilling.

Covered in viscera, Ciara stumbled to her feet, gasping in air that had been stolen from her lungs.  She saw Cassandra, still on the ground.  She was trying to return to her feet, but the bleeding gash in her thigh refused to let her stand.  Solas ran up to her side, casting a green glow over the wound.

Turning around, Ciara tried to lift her arm to close the rift, but found she could not.  Her arm hung slack, her left dagger forgotten somewhere on the battleground.  Tossing her right dagger to the ground, she grabbed her left hand, forced it to the air and focused past the pain to call on the mark.

The rift connected with her hand violently, pushing Ciara back on her heels.  She leaned into the force, the pain in her hand and arm becoming increasingly unbearable.  She cried out in agony as she heard, more than felt, bones snap.  She locked her right arm to keep the connection, but there was a tearing sensation in her left arm.  The cracking she heard was no longer from the rift, but her arm. 

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, followed immediately with the loudest noise Ciara had ever heard.  She felt herself flying backwards, colliding with a solid surface for a moment, before being forced back again, onto the ground.

Just as quickly as the light appeared, a stillness filled the air.  People were strewn everywhere, some lying on the ground moaning while others returned to their standing position in a daze.  Ciara found herself on her back, staring up at the Breach.  It seemed to be calm, hopefully sealed.

She felt herself losing consciousness as a lion’s face peered down at her.  Armored hands flew to the face, pulling the helmet away.  The last thing Ciara saw was a head full of wildly wavy blonde hair and a pair of matching golden brown eyes before the Fade claimed her.

* * *

 

As a result of the explosion that sealed the rift, the strange elf had literally landed in his lap with such force that it pushed him back into the ground.  He had just enough time to remove his helm, finally breathing fresh air, to see the elf close her eyes and loosen her muscles.  He thought she had died in his arms.

There was a flurry of activity as people surrounded the pair on the ground.  Solas flew to the side of the prisoner, immediately cradling her marked hand.  He palmed her wrist, working his way up her arm, sending his magic into her motionless body.  “She’s alive, though her hand and arm are broken in many places and the muscles are torn.”  The elf looked relieved. 

 _Thank the Maker!_ The man holding the rest of her body mirrored that relief, barely containing a long sigh.  Carefully, he stood, resting the prisoner’s upper body on the floor for Solas to work on her.

“Commander, I’m going to need you to carry her back to Haven.  I have enough magic to stabilize her, but I will need much more time and energy to fix her wounds.”  Solas looked up at the blonde man.

Varric chuckled.  “Well, I’m sure that’s alright with Curly, she’s already made fast friends with him.  Why, she already fell asleep in his lap!”

Walking past the grinning dwarf, he concealed the blush that crept across his cheeks with a swipe of a hand along the back his neck.  He averted his eyes, but managed to ask Cassandra if she was alright.  He hoped she was well enough to carry the slight elf.  After that last fight, he had little patience to deal with the little orator that mocked him.

“I will be fine, but Solas had to stop healing my leg to save Ciara’s life.”  Cassandra stared down at the unconscious elf.

Groaning inwardly, he waited for Solas to stabilize her while handing his shield and lion helm to Varric, hopefully keeping him busy enough with its weight to stop him from continuing to heckle him further.  Though he thought complete silence from the dwarf was impossible, as the stout man had taken on a personal mission to make his life even more challenging.

When she was ready to move safely, the Commander carefully lifted the elf, cradling her head into his shoulder.  He had to maneuver her slightly to avoid the spikes on his armor, but she was surprisingly easy to carry comfortably.  With the actions he had seen the woman make, he was shocked to feel how light she was.  Looking down at her closed eyes, he felt her frailty as well.

“Aw, Chuckles look!  They look like they could grace the cover of my next book!”  Varric bellowed a laugh, following them as Solas lead the group toward Haven. 

Solas cast a sidelong glance at the short man.  “Chuckles?  When have you heard me chuckle, child of the stone?”

“That’s the point… oh never mind, if I have to explain it, it loses its hilarity.”

“Oh, will you ever shut up, Varric?  Commander Cullen cannot carry two unconscious people!”  The limping Cassandra glared at Varric, making him laugh even louder.

Although Cullen was appreciative for Cassandra’s intervention, he knew it would have little effect on Varric.  Thankfully, Varric was behind him.  That would keep the dwarf from being able to see any visual response to his teasing.

The prisoner moaned lightly in his arms.  Cullen looked down quickly to see her eyes flutter, focusing on nothing.  She squirmed a little, causing him to hold her tightly so he would not lose his grip.  Suddenly, her eyes seemed to sharpen, looking into his face, questioningly. 

Her gaze widened at the situation, and she bucked wildly in his arms.  This caused Cullen to drop her heavily onto the floor at his feet. 

She landed on her right hip again, causing her to cry out in pain.  Her arm was on fire and her vision was clouded by the renewed migraine pounding to her heartbeat.  She held her hand to her body, trying to crawl away from the man that had been holding her tightly.  She only managed a few paces away before exhaustion forced her to collapse against the ground, panting heavily.

Solas turned around, seeing a shocked group of people staring at the writhing woman on the ground, crawling at his feet.  When she stopped moving, he eased her onto her back, trying to give her a look of sympathy.  He realized his kind act was not received as her eyes flew from side to side, apparently delirious. 

He pressed the palm of his hand against her forehead, whispering a spell.  Her will surprised him, her eyes remaining open far longer than he would have thought possible in her state.  Finally, her eyes fluttered closed, her breath slowing to a steady rhythm.  “Sleep, da’len.” He murmured into the shell of her ear, willing it to reach her within the Fade.

“I didn’t mean to drop her!  She twisted out of my grasp!”  Cullen looked abashed, the pink in his cheeks flooding the rest of his face, painting the tips of his ears.

“Do not worry yourself, Commander.  She will sleep the rest of the way.”  Solas stood, turned on a heel and continued walking.

Cullen kneeled next to the prone figure, now covered head to toe in filth.  He was definitely going to have to get his fur lined cloak washed after this.  He picked her up as gently as he could, returning her to the same position she held the last time he had her in his arms.

As quickly as possible, the group made their way back to Haven.  Varric spent the time laughing loudly at his own crude comments of the couple.  Cassandra grumbled quietly, favoring her injured leg.  Solas strode far out ahead, preferring to be alone. 

Cullen spent the time traveling from the Temple to Haven barely looking at the road ahead of him.  He was terrified that the skinny little elf would fly out of his arms again.  He tightened his muscles, holding her more closely, careful of any sign of pain or wakefulness.  She did not wake.


	4. Painful Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara gets a visitor. After she awakens, she finds the world slightly different than before the Breach was closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's that time folks! Eye candy for the fangirls/boys out there! Again with a thank you to Crystalline! Having to trudge through this slop to correct my errors, what a trouper! I would have more people to thank, but I was hesitant to put them through this chapter! Enjoy!

Ciara’s eyes slid open, reveling in the soothing feeling of the large hands kneading her feet.  Softly sighing, she wiggled as thumbnails were dragged across both of her arches as she barely concealed a giggle.

“I see you’re awake, sweetheart.”  A deep voice sounded at the foot of the four post bed.

Ciara let out a loud moan, pulling her feet from the hands and rolling onto her side.  “No I’m not, go away.”

A chuckle sounded, moving around the large bed toward her head.  “If that’s what you wish.  I’ll leave you be.”  He kissed her forehead and straightened to leave.

Ciara’s hand shot out faster than an arrow to catch his wrist, locking on tight.  She pulled the man onto the bed and into her arms.  “You know I didn’t mean it, you tease!”

Another chuckle as he bent his head into the crook of her neck, biting hard enough to make her gasp loudly, arching her back to push her body into his.  Certain to leave a mark, he laved his tongue over the bite, causing Ciara to melt between the bed and his hard body.

She tilted her head back, feeling pampered in his attentions as he pulled the silk sheet down her naked body, raising goosebumps in its retreating wake.  He moved up, rubbing his smooth cheek against hers, to drag his tongue up the shell of her ear to the tip, nipping at the end.  She keened to his touch as his hot breath groaned into her ear. 

He instinctively thrust his hips, his quickly hardening cock sliding across her smooth thigh.  He retreated, bringing his wet tongue down her chest to circle her peaked nipple, drawing it into his hot mouth. He cupped Ciara’s lonely breast with his free hand, pinching and rolling her peak between rough fingertips, causing her to arch her back sharply.

His hand that gripped the sheet abandoned it around her calves, slowly dragging his fingers up her body, raking his nails along her ribs until he felt her shiver beneath him. 

She tried to twist her body away from his fingers, but the weight on her belly and hips kept her stationary.  Instead, she thrust her hands into his thick hair, pulling him to her hungry mouth.  She devoured his moan as she thrust her tongue into his mouth, fighting for dominance with him. 

It was a fight he would ultimately win as the offending hand on her ribs hand fell down her side, crossing over her hip bone to the apex of her thighs.  He slipped a finger between her moistened folds, rubbing over her sensitive bud.  The sudden ecstatic shock forced her body to automatically spread her thighs, allowing him easier entry, but he refused her the satisfaction of entering her just yet.

He chuckled darkly into her mouth as she pulled her head back into a silent cry, exposing the length of her marked neck.  He lowered his mouth to the hollow of her throat, feeling her racing heartbeat with his lips and tongue as his free hand firmly gripped her hair and kept her head bent backward.

Her hands busied themselves with touching his bare shoulders and back.  She ran her delicate fingers of one hand across solid muscle, up his neck and scalp, just to fall down his back once more. 

The other hand slid down his chiseled chest and stomach, aching to touch his cock.  She gripped his shaft, thumbing at the bead of fluid that had begun to lubricate the head.  She swirled her thumb around his head while slowly pumping his shaft.

Her ministrations forced a shudder from him as he released her hair to remove one hand, then the other, from his body, pinning them above her head.  He pressed his nose to hers, his silver green eyes darkening as he pulled away from her, kneeling between her legs to stare down at her.  “Your beauty would shame any Goddess.”

She could only stare at him with heavily-lidded eyes and pant shallowly as he shifted his knees down, lowering his chest to the bed between her thighs.  “Allow me to supplicate before my personal deity.” He kissed the sensitive area at her knee.  “Ma tu vhena’sulahn.”  He used his tongue to leave a wet trail from her inner thigh to the top of her mound, keeping his eyes on the panting woman below him.  Spreading her lips with his fingers, he placed a firm kiss on her nub, spreading his lips to firmly suck at her most sensitive area.

Ciara cried out with pleasure, digging her nails into the palms she held above her head.  Her hips thrusting into his face, she felt an arm snake around her belly, pressing her into the bed gently.  “Please!  I want you, I need you.  Please!”  She wailed as he continued his assault on her body. 

He slipped his other hand below his chin, gathering her arousal on his fingers before easing one into her depths.  Understanding her need by the squeezing muscles pulsing on his finger, he responded with a second digit, causing her thighs to start trembling on either side of him. 

Agonizingly slowly, he withdrew his fingers before plunging them in, hooking his fingers toward her belly as he pulled them back.  To ease the increasing discomfort in his groin, he thrust against the silk sheets beneath him, groaning a vibration onto her clit.  He threatened to overwhelm her with the action, speeding his thrusting hand to match her heavy breathing.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he removed his hand and sat back on his heels, the prone woman whining her complaint.

Wiping his slickened face on the back of his hand, he gripped the outside of her thighs at her waist and pulled her hips to his lap.  Ciara giggled at the slight loss of control he showed, indicating his need.  He growled down at her, effectively reducing her to a quiet whimper.

Placing her shaking legs on his shoulders, he palmed his throbbing cock and slid it up and down her drenched slit.  Her mouth dropped open at the sensation as she mentally prepared for the assault.

The look he gave her showed his desire to dive into her, but he eased into her an inch at a time, allowing her time to voice any discomfort.  Finally, he had seated himself entirely inside her.  She was hot, wet and throbbing along his length, forcing him to close his eyes and take a shuddering breath before moving.

Seeing nothing but pure pleasure in his Goddess, he nearly pulled all the way out of her before rocking back forcefully, pushing her slightly up the bed.  She keened out a “YES!” as he continued to buffet her with rough thrusts.  It was all he could do to not spend himself at her cry.

Allowing her thighs to slide off his shoulders, he crawled forward while pummeling her wanton body with his aching cock as she continued to slide on the silk sheets.

She felt the headboard of the bed and pressed her hands against it, keeping her still and forcing his next thrust to push into her harshly.  She cried out and he stilled.  A slight look of worry washed over his face as he scanned her eyes.  “Do that again.”  She grinned wickedly at him.

He grinned back at her, growling as he grabbed her hands, placing them around his neck until she locked her hands together.  Then he slipped his hands beneath her waist, pulling her upper body to his chest, her hot tunnel fitted onto his cock firmly, while he shifted onto his knees.  He crawled forward, her body impaled on his, until he shoved her against the headboard rough enough to knock the wall behind it.

The new position had his cock hitting Ciara in all of the right places, her clit rubbing against her lover’s body with each thrust. 

He leaned his head against her chest and placed a hand on the headboard, gaining enough purchase to pound into her. 

He grunted with every push, which caused Ciara to get ever closer to her end, feeling the pull of the climax as she locked her ankles behind his back.  She squeezed her muscles around him, earning another growl from his throat. 

She smiled at her small victory before she felt the dam begin to burst.  She dug her nails into his shoulders and screamed into the morning air, rocking her hips to bring him to his end with hers.

It was an action she did not need to make.  At her cry, he felt the heaviness of his sack tighten as stars exploded behind his eyelids.  He yelled her name once, before latching his teeth onto her shoulder, breaking the skin with the intensity of the orgasm.

He continued to move in her a couple more times before being forced to remove his softening cock from her battered quim, too sensitive to endure her quivering muscles.

He collapsed back onto the bed, drawing her with him, laying her head on his heaving chest.  “Ar lath ma, Ciara.”  He breathed into her hair.

“Mmm… Ar lath ma.” Her breathless reply came as she closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of her perfume, sex and the scent that was undeniably _him._

She was on the verge of sleep when a crash sounded nearby at her feet.

* * *

 

Ciara bolted upright in bed, her eyes searching the small room in front of her.  A small elven woman was kneeling on the floor, picking up clothing that had fallen from a chest she had apparently dropped.

Scanning her surroundings, she noticed she was alone in her bed.  In a different bed.  She sighed a deep breath and collapsed onto her pillow.  _It was a dream._

She heard a gasp and looked at the sound.  The now standing elf looked at her with wide eyes, her feet shifting nervously.  “You’re awake!  I need to tell the Seeker.  She said to go to her right away after you wake up.”

“Relax da’len, what’s your name?” Ciara tried to calm the clearly frightened woman. 

She didn’t seem to hear her question, starting to back out of the room.  “Right away, the Seeker said.  In the Chantry, the big building.  You need to see her right away!”  She fled, leaving Ciara to watch her with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open.

“Well, I guess I have to go ‘see the Seeker right away!’.”  Ciara chuckled to herself, climbing from the warmth of her bed to dress in the clothing the elf had left, forgotten on the floor.

The dream was still fresh in her mind as she changed her soaking wet smallclothes, the ache still present in her lower belly.  She tried to remember the face of her lover, but all she could recall was the wavy brown hair and the green-grey eyes. 

She saw her forgotten weapons lying on a small table and attached them to the leather armor she had dressed in, thankful that they seemingly trusted her a little.  Glancing down at her hand, the mark dimly glowed green, but did not crackle, the pain an ignorable ache. 

She tested her hand and arm, recalling the cracking and tearing from her last encounter.  All of her pain was gone, but she was slightly stiff in the wrist.  A little stretching, maybe a spar or two, and she’d be back to normal. 

She glanced back to her palm.  _Well, maybe not entirely back to normal_ , she thought as she stepped out of her room into blinding sunlight and froze.

She cast her gaze from side to side, and in every direction there were people standing side by side, staring at her.  She saw some bending their heads, silently whispering.  Her delicate ears picked up fragments of softly spoken words coming from their lips.  “Elf… Herald… Andraste…”

Terrified, she saw the tall building behind the numerous huts surrounding the one she had awoken from.  Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, the crowd moving in front of her.  They seemed afraid to touch her, which suited Ciara just fine.  She just wished they’d stop staring at her. 

Reaching the huge double doors of the Chantry, she glanced once more behind her at the gawking audience before pushing open the doors and stepping into the darkened building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish Phrases:
> 
> Ma tu vhena’sulahn = You make my heart sing  
> Ar lath ma = I love you  
> da'len = child


	5. The Herald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara meets the advisors in the war room, where she's asked to join the Inquisition formally. Roaming around Haven, she meets some of the old crewmembers, and one new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, DeviantRhapsode and Crystalline for proof reading this, and lending several comments that had me rolling on the floor in tears with laughter! Thanks ladies!
> 
> Also, Balkrinn is my representation of my friend "Rohan's" character from World of Warcraft. I love you bro!

As Ciara neared the end of the large room, she could hear voices arguing. The word "prisoner" was mentioned by a familiar man's voice. It sounded as if Chancellor Roderick was in a heated conversation with Cassandra and Leliana over her fate. At least it sounded like he was the minority vote in the conversation.

She was getting tired of everyone arguing about her behind her back, so she flung the door open, forcibly. In front of her were a number of people. She recognized the Chancellor, Cassandra and Leliana, but there was a woman in shiny, soft clothing, as well as a tall man in armor she recognized from the battlefield.

"If you're going to talk about me, at least have the courtesy of either letting me in on it, or talking low enough so I can't hear you from the other side of the village" Ciara stared daggers at Roderick. She heard a low chuckle and scanned the faces to see the blonde man was smirking, shoulders slightly heaving with the accompanying noise.

Cassandra threw a heavy book on the table, and continued to yell at the man until he was driven off. He spared Ciara a fiery glare with a shake of his head as he retreated out of the room and down the hall.

Cassandra placed a hand on Ciara's shoulder. "Ciara, I'd like you to meet Josephine, she handles the political side of our organization. You've met Commander Cullen briefly on the battlefield, as well as Leliana, our spymaster."

Ciara nodded an acknowledgement to the three people before returning to Cullen. "Are we going to have a problem?" She looked at him with narrowed eyes.

He stared at her, without the hostility of Ciara's gaze.  "Not unless you cause one. I believe we will be fine as long as I don't have to worry about a dagger in the back." A small grin accented the fine scar on his upper lip.

"If you two are quite finished." Cassandra moved her sight from one to the other. "We've formed the Inquisition to stop the spread of the Breach, find out who was behind it, stop them, and in general, return Thedas back to a state of semi-peaceful existence. However, we cannot do it without your mark. Therefore, I... we need to ask you: Will you stay and help us?"

Ciara gaped at the woman. She could not possibly be serious. "You want me to stay here? And help you after you shackled me in a dungeon? Why would I possibly want to stay?"

Cullen spoke up from the corner of her vision. "We are not keeping you here, any longer. If you want to stay, it will be your choice. If you do not help us though, there is a very real chance this will destroy the entire world. This is bigger than you. It's bigger than any of us. But until we can find another way to close these smaller rifts, we need your help. Believe me, if we had any alternatives, we'd be using them."

"Aw, and here I thought you wanted me to stay because you were fond of me." Ciara replied, cheekily.

He blushed. The man actually blushed!

Cassandra stepped between them, facing Ciara. "The fact remains.  We need you. Some are calling you the Herald of Andraste because they saw you step out of the Fade itself."

"Not that we are discouraging such opinions." Leliana was glancing at her, looking rather smug with herself.

Ciara scoffed. "So now I'm not only the only means with which to close these rifts, you're saying that you will be touting me as some sort of shemlen religious figure?"

Leliana's grin widened. "A small fact that you will barely notice, no doubt."

* * *

  
I must be crazy! Why did I agree to this? Ciara thought as she strode out of the Chantry, back into the welcoming sunlight.

She heard a clomping behind her, and turning, she saw Cullen jogging toward her, looking into her eyes.

"A moment, Herald, in private if I may?" He slowed to a stop at her side.

With the situation she found herself in, she could hardly think that what the man had to say would make her day any worse. "Sure, why not?" She motioned for him to lead on.

He moved them around the side of the Chantry, away from prying eyes. Cautiously, Ciara slipped her hands to her daggers, hoping to appear as if she were simply resting her hands. The trained soldier saw her stance immediately, however and stared at her hands. "I mean you no harm, I just thought we should clear the air between us."

She was suspicious, especially since the man had both hands on the pommel of his sword. He noticed her glancing at his hands, immediately pushing them away from his sword and made a show of setting them at his sides. She slowly lowered her hands in suit.

"We most certainly got off on the wrong foot, Herald." The blonde man chuckled. "I wanted to apologize for my actions, and what I had said to you on the battlefield. It was below me, and unfair to you."

Ciara gazed up at Cullen curiously. She could hardly believe her ears. However, she realized that she was going to be working with this guy for the foreseeable future, so she made a halfhearted attempt at cooperating with him. "I suppose I should apologize as well. Forgetting everything you were and are can be unsettling, if you can imagine. Let's just go on from here with a fresh slate and try not to kill the other."

As she turned to walk away, she heard him mumble under his breath. "We shall see, won't we?"

* * *

  
Ciara took the rest of the day to explore Haven and its inhabitants. She was told to talk to several key members of the Inquisition in the Village, to see if they needed any help, and to get their aid in return.

She would need to get supplies before heading to the Hinterlands, where she was to recruit the best horse master in Thedas, according to many. The man had a large herd of horses, all trained for war, which their organization was in desperate need of. He had offered to aid the Inquisition, but wanted assurance that his wife and daughter would be safe on their farm while he was gone.

She was also to aid a Mother of the Chantry who was helping refuges from the war. Apparently, this woman was supposed to have many friends, and the young group needed many more backers if they were to get anywhere in this war.

First, she headed to the alchemist to stock up on healing potions for the journey. As she neared his shop, however, she saw the bald elf, Solas, gazing up at the scarred sky.

She followed his gaze. It was the first time she'd looked to see if her actions to seal the Breach were successful. Frowning, Ciara noticed that while there were no more bolts of green lightning flying from the sky, the Breach itself had not disappeared as she had hoped. For in the blue sky swirled an ominously enormous green circle, rumbling faintly.

Stepping to his side, she poked him in the ribs, startling him in the process. “I thought I sealed it. If I didn’t, why is everyone so much calmer around here?”

“You have succeeded in closing the breach, but it is temporary. The mark on your hand hasn’t the strength to seal it completely. I’ve spoken to Cassandra and Leliana about this. I have suggested we get the help of the mages to aid you with their powers. However, most of the mages have holed up in Redcliff, and refuse to see us at the moment.” He grinned sideways at her.

They spoke for a few more moments. She asked more questions about the Breach, and about himself.

Unsure of how to trust such an unknowable person, Solas tried to be as vague as possible, but it seemed as if Ciara was no fool.

“Why do you want to know about me, an elven apostate?” He narrowed his eyes down to hers.

She returned his glare, moving to look at him directly. “I have to know I can trust you. Since I know little to nothing about anyone around here, I’m sure I will be making any number of inquiries about people.”

Smiling at her determination, he apologized. “I’m sorry da’len, my situation has forced me to be more precautious than perhaps I need be.” He relaxed slightly, telling her what he determined she needed to know, and nothing else.

Realizing that she was only going to get so much information from Solas, Ciara excused herself and stepped into the apothecary’s hut. She requisitioned as many potions as she could carry comfortably before heading back out, nodding at Solas as she passed, a wide smile plastered on her face.

Solas watched her leave. She intrigued him. Not simply because she held the mark, but her spirit did something to draw his attention to her. Physically, she was un-extraordinary. She was smaller than most elves, with slight features to compliment her frame. Her high cheekbones and long face revealing her heritage to be closer to the ancient elves than most clans. Her active mind made up for any disservice her small body did her. She was innately curious, and seemingly sharp as a whip. She was either going to be entertaining to be around, or trouble. More than likely, she’d be both.

* * *

  
Ciara stopped just long enough to say hello to Varric, sensing that being drawn into a conversation with the dwarf would mean the rest of her day, and she had places to go and people to see.

Outside the main gates, the blacksmith, Harritt, was kind enough to make her a set of daggers that were customized for her. He said that he would have made her another bow, but the one she had found on the wagon was one of exceptional make. Ciara made a mental note to ask about the origins of her bow sometime later.

She turned from the blacksmith in time to see a heavily armored dwarf running as fast as his stubby legs would carry him. He turned to look behind him just in time to see a snowball plow into his face. He stumbled backward, landing hard on his behind. A small herd of human children, dozens of pre-made snowballs in their arms, came running up to him, pelting him from above.

Ciara raced to his side, blocking him from further assault. The sight of the woman silenced all of their laughs, small hands frozen on unsent snowballs. She glared at the children in a silent dare.

“Why are you picking on this man? What did he ever do to you? Go running to your moms if you know what’s good for ya.” She sneered at the children. The youngest looking of them burst into tears, dropping her arsenal. All of them bolted for the village in search of safety.

She watched them flee, seeing Varric behind them in a fit of laughter, heading her way.

She offered her hand to the dwarf, but he batted it away, pushing himself to his feet. “Damn mongrels, I’ll get them, just wait.” He mumbled, a heavy brogue accent making the words difficult to understand.

Varric sidled up to the other dwarf, dusting errant snow from the man’s back and shoulders while he brushed his impressively braided beard clean. Varric continued laughing the entire time. “Hey, Snowball! Those kids really did a number on you! Will you live?”

He chuckled back at Varric. “Oh sweet Paragons, don’t you dare write me into your next book if that’s to be my name with you. And if it is, remind me to make myself scarce.”  
Taking in the scene, Ciara looked down at the dwarves. “I take it you’re alright?” She asked the dark haired dwarf.

“Aye, it’d take a bit more than some flea-bitten mongrels to do me in!” He glanced up at her, really looking at her for the first time. “Oh! You must be the Herald of Andraste, herself! My name’s Balkrinn, Balkrinn Aeducan at your service!” He said with an exaggerated bow. His shining armor clanged with the effort.

“That’s quite some armor you have there Balkrinn.” Ciara reached out, sweeping some snow from the top of his head.

He grinned proudly at the blue and silver gear. “Oh, aye, the only thing I was allowed to take with me from Orzimmar. I would have fought those baby nugs off, but my weapons and shield are in Varric’s tent.” He looked at the laughing dwarf. “At least they were there when I last saw them.” More laughter filled the air.

“Oh they’re still there, my prince.”

Ciara’s eyes shot to Varric for a moment before returning to Balkrinn. “Prince? You’re a prince?”

The man’s smile diminished into a frown. “No, I’m not. Not anymore. Varric, you’d do me great favor if you would stop calling me that. I was a prince, until my views of how my brother should run Orzimmar got me thrown out on my coat tails.”

Varric slapped the man on the back. “Their loss, I say. You will do more in the Inquisition in a week than you would’ve been allowed to do in that run down city your whole spoiled life.”  
“You’re joining us then? I’ll be honored to have such a fierce warrior at my side, as long as our enemy isn’t snow.” Ciara laughed heartily. Her words sent Varric into a fit of laughter, falling to his back as Balkrinn cheerfully shoved him away.

“It will be my honor to protect you, milady, from snow or any other matter of ill.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Mouth agape from the action, she chuckled and retrieved her hand. “Well, Balkrinn, Varric, we leave first thing in the morning, so don’t forget to get enough rest. The hinterlands will be a long walk.

Having the feeling of being watched, she glanced over the short men to see Cullen surrounded by sparring men and women, staring at her. The scar on his upper lip stretched in a grin on his face. A look of shock quickly passed his features and he turned, swiping a hand across his neck to hide his face.

Ciara excused herself from Balkrinn and Varric before heading in Cullen’s direction. “Do you allow human children to torment non-humans, Cullen?” She asked the question with a lacing of venom.

He glanced down at the frowning elf, a residue of a blush still quite apparent on his cheeks. “They are not soldiers. I do not command them. If you want to ask that question, perhaps you should ask their mothers.”

Realizing her question had come off as an attack, she backpedaled. “I understand. My apologies, Commander. Starting off fresh seems to be a bit difficult of a concept for me.”  
The look on his face shifted from irritation to a shy grin. “Oh, I understand all too well, believe me.”

“Well, I did want to talk to you about sealing the Breach. I noticed that all I succeeded in doing was closing it temporarily. Solas believes that if we get the apostate mage group to help us, I should be able to use their collective power to seal it permanently.” As she spoke, she could see his grin turn into a frown, nearing a sneer.

His voice suddenly boomed at her. “That’s ridiculous! Pouring all of that power into something we couldn’t even begin to understand is a mistake of monumental proportions!” Cullen began to pace in front of her. “If anything, we should ask the Templars for help. This is magical in nature, so their training would control the magic of the Breach, allowing you to close it with your own power!” He suddenly stopped, turning in to face her. His face looked angry, and worried.

“I’m assuming you have history with mages?” She saw a strange look cloud his eyes for a moment before he turned away, wiping a hand down his face.

“You could say that. I was there at the fall of the Ferelden Circle, as well as the demolishing of Kirkwall. It was not a memory I recall fondly, for obvious reasons.”

Recognizing pain when she saw it, Ciara tried to change the topic. “How did you get to be the leader of the Inquisitions forces?”

Cullen glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, relief apparent on his face. “Cassandra recruited me after Kirkwall. The Templars had nothing left to offer me, so I accepted. I do not regret it.”

The conversation continued. A mutual respect was tentatively held by both as Ciara carefully pried as much information about the man’s past from him as she could.

Seeing a lull in the conversation as proof that she would get no more from him at the time, she ended the chat. “Well, I'll be off to the Hinterlands tomorrow. Perhaps when I come back, we can do some sparring. We can show these pups how real men and women fight.”

He smiled softly down at the elven woman that barely stood to his shoulder. “I would like that.”

As the sun lowered in the sky, she bid her farewells to Cullen and headed back to the hut she woke up in. She noticed her sweat soaked sheets had been changed. The potions she had requisitioned were carefully packed in a shoulder pack. She undressed, tossing the nightgown that lay on the bed to the floor, preferring to sleep naked. As she drifted into the Fade, Ciara’s last thoughts were of the Breach, mages and Templars, and a scar marked upper lip.


	6. The Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara and crew head off to the Hinterlands, meeting up with Scout Harding. Harding catches the eye of a certain dwarf. A Chantry Mother and a lonesome Grey Warden also make their appearances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful and patient Beta readers! They've been undeniably helpful to me, and supportive every step of the way.
> 
> Yay, Rohan... Balkrinn gets a crush! *hugs*

After a restless night, Ciara was eager to get moving the moment the sun peeked over the mountain, casting a warming glow over the village.  She quickly dressed in her new leather armor and fit her weapons to their spots at her sides and back.  As she reached for the shoulder bag full of supplies for the journey, she noticed a note on the nearby desk. 

She read the note, written in gorgeous flowing script. 

_“_ _Da_ _’_ _len, please come see me when you wake.  ~Solas._ _”_

Curiously, she folded the note and tucked it into one of her many pockets.  She was rather disturbed that not only had he slipped into her room while she slept, but that he did it without waking her.  She was going to have to lock her door from now on.

Doing as requested, Ciara went to seek out the mage. 

The door to his hut opened before she had time to knock, and the bald elf stepped from the room, staff in hand and a pack on his shoulder.  “Good morning da’len, I see you received my note.”

“I did.  Would you mind telling me why you were in my room last night?  If you wanted to see me, you could have woken me up instead of concealing yourself like a criminal.”  She narrowed her eyes at him, vehemently.

He stood motionless for a moment, eyes widened.  “Forgive me.  I am not accustomed to being in the company of so many people.  I realize now that my actions may have been a mistake.  It will not happen again.  I had wanted to ask you when we were leaving this morning, but you were engaged with Commander Cullen when I last saw you.  I merely left the note so that you would not leave without me today.  Do you forgive me?”  A genuine smile made the man look years younger, and the morning sun brightened his sky blue eyes.

Feeling completely disarmed of any argument she had imagined making, Ciara just muttered a “yes, fine” before turning on her heel toward Varric and Balkrinn’s tent. 

“I’m glad and slightly amazed you understood the note, da’len.”  Solas had matched her pace at her side.

She sent him a curious look.  “Why would I not understand it?  I do know how to read.”

He spared her a glance.  “Of course you do, forgive me.”

“Forgive you again, and so soon?  As long as you stop underestimating me, I should have no reason to have to forgive you again.”  She stopped in front of the dwarves’tent.

Incredulously, she could hear the sound of two people snoring inside.  She chuckled and shook her head as the snores seemed to combat each other for the title of being the loudest in Haven.

Peeling back the flap of the tent, she poked her head in.  She could only see two sleeping rolls, each with a wild mass of hair crowning it as she yelled loudly.  “Time to wake up, sleepyheads!”  She gently kicked both of the men’s feet through their blankets.

Balkrinn sat straight up, a hand flying to his sword before noticing who had rudely awoken them.  After squinting at the elf, he quickly lowered the sword.  “I’m sorry milady.  We’ve slept too late, haven’t we?”

“Just barely, we’ll be leaving shortly.  Can you do something about… him?”  Ciara motioned to the still sleeping figure next to him.

“Yes, Herald.  I’ll get his lazy arse up right now.”  Balkrinn shoved at the motionless figure roughly.

Varric, on the other hand, continued to snore, ignoring any attempt at waking him.

Chuckling to herself, Ciara stepped back, turning quickly and stepped forward, into a solid mass.  “Oh!  Sorry Cassandra, I was just coming to get you.”  Both women took a couple of steps back, giving the other room.  A low laugh sounded behind her, coming from Cullen who looked ridiculously warm in the cool mountain morning with his fur lined red cloak wrapped around himself.

“Are you coming as well, Commander?”  She eyed the warrior.  “I wasn’t aware we were in need of so many shields.  We already have Cassandra and Balkrinn.”

Cullen lifted a hand, full of papers.  “Unfortunately not.  One of the downsides of being the Commander of an army?  Paperwork.”  He grinned widely.

Ciara smiled at him before returning her gaze to Cassandra as two dwarves stepped from the tent, one of them grumbling darkly.  “How far of a walk is it to our destination?”

“If we leave now, we should reach our forward camp by mid-day.  We can reach the Crossroads where Mother Giselle is tending wounded refugees by early afternoon.  It is not far away from our forward camp according to Scout Harding.”  Cassandra pulled a small map of the area from a pocket under her heavy metal armor and handed it to Ciara to see.

She took the map, glancing at various marks on the map, taking note as to where their destinations were in relation to each other.  “Well alright then, if everyone’s ready, we should get moving before we get any interruptions.”  She scanned the people with her, seeing bags under eyes everywhere.  Apparently she had not been the only one to not sleep well.

* * *

 

The snow of the mountains slowly melted into the soft grass and flowers of the Hinterlands.  As Cassandra suggested, Ciara could make out tents with the Inquisition’s emblem in the near distance right around mid-day.  

As the group neared the encampment, an arrow landed soundly at her feet, seemingly out of nowhere. 

In a flash, Balkrinn and Cassandra raised their shields and stepped in front of Ciara.  Just as quickly, she unshouldered her bow, pulling an arrow from her quiver.  

Solas moved into position at her side, easing his feet into a practiced battle stance.  He had been using his staff as a useful walking stick.

A loud metallic scraping sounded as Varric pulled his crossbow from his back, scanning in every direction.

A feminine voice rang out.  “Seeker, is that you?  Who is with you?”

“It’s me, Harding.  I have the Herald and the rest of our party with me.  Call off your men.”

Ciara could barely make out bits and pieces of faces through the thick trees surrounding the base.  Her sensitive ears picked up the soft sounds of weapons being put away.

Soon, a short woman with a red braid pinned to the top of her heademergedfrom the foliage, a bow being placed on her back.  The dwarven woman had a wide, welcoming smile and her pretty face was dotted with small freckles, a fine line of a scar the only thing marring her features.

She reached out a hand to Ciara.  “Hi, wow, you must be the Herald of Andraste.  I’m Scout Harding.”

“And I am Balkrinn Aeducan, Prince of Orzammar, at your service, milady.”   The dark haired dwarf had stepped quickly between the women, placing a kiss on Harding’s proffered hand.

Varric laughed loudly.  “I thought you didn’t want to be called Prince anymore, Snowball.”

Ignoring the comment, Balkrinn kept Harding’s hand up to his mouth, staring at her.  “Uhhh, okay then.”  Harding gently pulled her hand from his grasp and extended it to Ciara.  “I’m glad you guys finally made it.”

Shaking her head at Balkrinn, Ciara accepted the handshake before introducing herself and her companions.  “Please call me Ciara, I have done nothing to deserve the title.  I’m an elf, not a Herald of anything.”

Frowning at her, Cassandra turned her gaze to Harding.  “Report, Scout.”

Immediately standing at attention, the woman recited the recent events in the area, following Cassandra as she strode toward the base’s table map.  “On your way here, Sister Leliana senta crow with a message about a lone Grey Warden in the area.  She said that she’d be most appreciative if you would look for him.  She has a soft spot for Wardens.  She seemed worried about them when we last spoke.  Most recently, some of our scouts have reported a dragon harassing refugees to the south.”

“A dragon?  I guess we know where we’re _not_ going then.”  Varric said with a laugh.

Cassandra speared him with a stare.  “We will go where we are needed, dwarf.”

“Yes, master!”  Varric mock saluted in her direction.

The entire time, Balkrinn stood silent.  His gaze roamed as if trying to focus on something, before repeatedly landing on Harding.  It gave Ciara an idea.  “You have plenty of archers around here, and I see a couple of mages.  Who do you have to draw an attacker’s attention, a shield to protect you?”

 “Normally, an attacker wouldn’t see us before we’re able to put them down.  But in the event that we’re taken by surprise, we are able to kill any opponent with little to no damage to the group.”  Harding looked at her curiously.

Ciara stood tall and walked to Balkrinn’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “Well then, Balkrinn will stay with you.  He will stay out of sight unless needed and he knows how to follow orders.”  She glanced down at his wide eyes.  “Isn’t that right, Balkrinn?”  She subtly winked at him.

He jerked alert.  “Oh aye, I’ve been trained to be quiet as a field mouse.  And any orders given to me are done immediately!”  His bright smile pointed directly at Harding.

“Good then.  Balkrinn, stay with the scouting party and be their shield.  Do as Scout Harding tells you, or she will have you return to Haven.”  Ciara cast her gaze on Harding’s withering look.  “Is that okay, Scout Harding?” 

She returned to attention, immediately.  Apparently Cullen had trained his soldiers well.  “Yes ma’am.  If he’s any trouble, I will send him back to Haven immediately.”  She narrowed her eyes to Balkrinn.

“Alright then, Cassandra, should we continue?  We want to reach Mother Giselle before nightfall.”

Casting her gaze between Ciara, Balkrinn, and Harding, Cassandra nodded and shouldered her pack once again.

As the group, down to one dwarf, walked down the dirt roadway, Ciara glanced behind them.  “Be good, Balkrinn!  It’d be a shame to see you in Haven when we get back.”

A well armored hand rose in the air.  “Oh, milady, I’ll be akin to a paragon, I promise!”  His gaze permanently fixated on the slightly irritated dwarven woman.

* * *

 

As the group neared the Crossroads, a small village aptly named as it lay at the intersection of the two main roads in the Hinterlands, they came across an open rift, and small demons strode along its base.  After killing the demons, Ciara was relieved to see that her mark still worked,closing the rift, and that her arm and hand had returned to working order.

As she pulled the magic of the mark back to her palm, she heard fighting in the village below them.

Small groups of mages and templars faced off in the streets of the village, some civilians crying out from errant shots from both parties.  Several Inquisition soldiers were fighting both sides, trying to keep the villagers safe from attacks.

Ciara and her crew quickly dispatched or subdued the rampaging attackers.  They had the numbers to beat her small company, but they were so disorganized, it took little effort to control them. 

Ciara sent any captured mages and templars back to Haven with some soldiers to escort them.  She hoped that they could be talked into giving up their hatred toward each other and join the Inquisition to seal the Breach.  After it was closed, she had no care if the fighting groups slaughtered each other.

Once she had given the soldiers returning to Haven their orders, Ciara found Mother Giselle.  She was a tall, dark skinned woman in a red and white robe and headdress.  Her voice was thickly accented and kind. 

They spoke at length about the Breach and the Inquisition.  Mother Giselle promised to lend her support to their cause, telling Ciara that she needed to go to Orlais’ capital city and speak directly with the remaining Chantry members to secure their aid.  As she was packing up her things to return with the soldiers to Haven, Ciara asked her about the Grey Warden in the area that Leliana wanted them to look in on.

“Yes, I do believe there is a Warden up the hill near the lake.  He has not come down here, but several young men have gone to him in hopes that he would teach them to protect their homes from the effects of the war.”  She pointed in the direction she believed the Warden was. 

After making sure the returning soldiers and the Chantry Mother would be safe on their journey, Ciara gathered her companions and headed off to the south, where she hoped the Grey Warden would be.  She hoped he would be willing to help the Inquisition.  Wardens were well respected, if not feared, and Ciara was hoping to be able to make use of their contracts with all of Orlais and Ferelden.

* * *

 

Cresting a hill, Ciara came upon a small lake with a tiny island in the center.  On the opposite side of the lake, she saw a single room hut, a thin trail of smoke wafting from its chimney.  Someone was home.

Circling the lake, the group saw a tall bearded man talking to several young men.  As they neared, another group launched themselves at the teens, daggers and swords in hand.  The bearded man quickly threw himself into the fray, dispatching one of the bandits immediately before spinning on a second.

Ciara sensed the young men had no training, as they were mostly standing still, shocked into submission.  She nocked an arrow at one of the bandits and sent it flying, piercing the man through the heart, dropping him instantly. 

The others had similar ideas as Cassandra ran forward, nodding at the bearded man as he glanced at her.  Solas swung his staff in elegant arcs before slamming the end on the ground, spears of ice flying from the tip at another aggressor.  Varric’s crossbow fired quick bolts repeatedly, the small man clearly knowing its power as his thick legs braced with each shot fired.

After all of the bandits were undeniably dead, the boys seemed to snap from their frightened stupor.  They whimpered and bolted, excuses of being unprepared or too young flying into the air as they fled.  The bearded man just stared after them, chuckling.

“Just a bunch of whelps, looking to do good for their homes, but not even knowing how to hold the correct end of a sword.  Let them go home to their mothers for more nursing.”  He shook his head before turning to Ciara. 

“We’re with the Inquisition.  Are you a Grey Warden?  We were wondering if we might be able to use your services in sealing the Breach.”  Ciara looked up at the man, expectantly.

The man cast his eyes to the ground at his feet.  “Inquisition, huh?  The name’s Blackwall.  Normally I work alone, recruiting for the Wardens.  I’m not sure what one Grey Warden could do for you.” 

Her anger spiked.  “You’re right, what good could just one Grey Warden do?  Leliana must’ve been out of her mind sending us out here for one man.”

Putting a hand on her arm, Cassandra shook her head.  “Leliana said she was worried about the Wardens.  She must have a reason why.  Do you know anything that the wardens could be doing that would cause concern?”  She spoke to Blackwall.

“Now that you mention it, there’s been a lull in Warden communications as of late.  We aren’t a chatty bunch to begin with, but it’s been quiet, even for us.  I don’t know why, but if my people are in trouble, I need to find out.  If you’re interested in the Wardens to seal the Breach, I suppose I could use our contracts to secure resources and men for the ordeal.  I’ll join you.” 

And with that, the Inquisition gained a Grey Warden.

Seeing the man needed updated armor and weapons, Ciara sent Blackwall back to Haven to get gear and confer with Leliana about this issue with the Wardens.  She was unconvinced it was a problem worthy of their time, as there was a giant hole in the sky.  But if it meant getting the Warden’s resources, she could let Leliana deal with it.

After confirming their current location with Cassandra, Ciara led her group to the west.  They still needed to get the horse master Dennet, if he was even still alive in this war.  His horses would be invaluable to the organization, especially as the ever-vocal Varric complained about his road-weary feet about every fivesteps.

Ciara was looking toward to being able to get from place to place quicker, herself.  She set a grueling pace in the direction of the horse master as Varric jogged intermittently to keep up.


	7. The Horse Whisperer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing with their first trip into the vast Hinterlands, the group find the horse master, Dennett. The Inquisition must prove itself capable of protecting Master Dennett's family, if he is going to lend them any of his prized animals.
> 
> Warhorses and Varric... not a good combo, and hilarity ensues.
> 
> Ciara senses a distance has formed between her and a certain blonde Commander, and endeavors to close the gap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you DeviantRhapsode and Crystalline for your swift reading of this chapter. I should dangle smut-carrots in front of your face more often. =D
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support! I would have given it up if I hadn't gotten such nice comments!
> 
> Thank you.

Ciara heard them before the rest of the party, the pack of wolves running in their direction.  Not wasting time to explain, she drew her bow and prepared to defend herself.  Following her cue, the rest of her party followed suit, trusting the hunter’s instincts. 

Within moments, a dozen black as night wolves bounded into their view.  Their eyes glowed an eerie red and around their muzzles spewed a bloody froth.  And they looked directly at the group.

Ciara sent her first arrow flying, impaling a wolf through the heart, stilling it instantly.  She loaded another arrow as her companions began their attack.

Soon, all of the wolves were dead.  So frantic in their attack, they did not even make an attempt at escape as most wolves would have if they knew they were outmatched.

Ciara dug her arrows from the corpses.  “That can’t be normal.  Wolves shouldn’t attack like that!”

“No, and their eyes shouldn’t glow, either.”  Varric retrieved his own bolts from the bodies.

“They seem to have been possessed.  We are close to Dennett’s farm.  This may be the reason the horse master was reluctant to leave his family.  One can hardly blame him for his hesitation if possessed wolves roam near his family.”  Solas was bent over one of the wolves, thumbing the jawbone necklace hanging at his chest.

It was the first time Ciara had really looked at the corded necklace.  She had seen the jawbone lying on his chest several times but did not bother to wonder if wolves held some sort of significance with him.  He seemed to be looking at the corpses with a sadness she couldn’t explain.

“Are you okay, Solas?”

His eyes shot to hers, as he straightened quickly.  “Of course, let us continue.”  His face was as emotionless as stone.

Shaking her head, Ciara returned to the road, cresting the small incline.

Over the hill lay Dennett’s farm.  Ciara went directly to the biggest house on the property, admiring the variety of horses surrounding the farm.

She met with the horse master, stating her case to entice the man to join his resources with the Inquisition.  The man agreed to help them, if she could guarantee the safety of his family.

Seeing no other choice, Ciara agreed.  They discussed what needed to be done.  The wolves in the area were, indeed, a threat.  They had killed two of Dennett’s horses in as many days and came in such numbers that Dennett and his farmhands did not have the capability of ridding themselves of the menace. 

The ongoing war between mages and Templars was also draining on the small farm community. 

Ciara and her small group spent the better part of a week combing the hills for errant packs of possessed wolves, finally coming across the main den.  A demon had set up residence in the lair, driving the wolves to their erratic behavior.  After the monster was killed, any remaining wolves slunk back into the shadows they had come from.

The team had cleared the area of any mages and Templars, but Dennett wanted better reassurance that his family would be able to retreat to safety if more headed their way. 

“The best I can do is head back to Haven and request that we send some soldiers out here to build some watchtowers along the road.  You should be able to get news ahead of time if you’re about to be overrun.”  The exhausted Ciara collapsed into a chair in the farmhouse.

Seeing her state, Dennett softened his stance.  “Tell you what, if you promise to do as you said, you can have my horses.  I’ll even go with you to see that they settle in nicely, and to help train any nags you may already have.  But you guys need to stay here the night and get some rest, you look like shit.”

“Well, thank you for your honesty!  Thank you, Master Dennett.  I’ll keep my word, I promise you that.”

One of the stable boys showed them to a small guesthouse, seemingly set up for traveling farmhands, bunks lined the walls.

“Hmm.  Boys on the left, girls on the right.  Varric, if you keep us awake, you sleep on the roof.”  Ciara teased the dwarf, and Cassandra burst out laughing.

She was certain she was asleep before her head hit the straw filled pillow.

* * *

 

The next morning, Ciara awoke to see the sun already high in the sky.  It must have been mid-morning before she was able to drag her tired body from her cot.

Looking out the window of the bunkhouse, her mouth dropped open at the sight. 

Dozens, if not hundreds of horses were all corralled in a huge pen, a few carried tack and saddles.  People rushed across the farm.  Some people, riding their mounts, pushed even more obedient horses into the fenced area. 

Ciara wondered where all of these horses had come from.  She’d only seen a few dozen horses on the farm during her week.

Noticing she was alone in the building, she stepped outside, immediately greeted by Varric as he sat in a chair next to the door. 

“Pretty amazing sight, huh?  These guys have been rounding up horses before the sun even rose!  Apparently, there have been a few herds grazing over those mountains.”  He smiled up at Ciara.

She still gawked at the sight.  “We’re going to have to warn Haven.  I didn't expect this many animals!  I don’t know if we’ll be able to hold all of these.  At least it’s not a long trip, in case we have to send some back.”

Varric laughed heartedly.  “Yeah, good luck with that, Sleeping Beauty.  These horses are Dennett’s babies, he won’t separate the herd, I already asked.  He’s confident that he can care for _his_ horses, no matter the conditions.”

“Well then, ready to mount up?”  Ciara glanced down at the now frowning dwarf.

“Riding has never been a strong suit of mine.”

Ciara laughed all the way to find the horse master.

On her way to the man, she heard someone calling her name.  Looking in the direction of the noise, she saw Solas atop a gigantic spotlessly white mare.  He was trailing an even more massive pitch black stallion by the reigns. 

He pulled up short of the stunned elf.  “I took the liberty of gaining us some of the best horses Master Dennett had to offer.  He insisted you take this stallion.  He said he was befitting of your status.”  He handed her the reigns of the giant animal. 

Ciara’s head did not even come close to reaching the horse’s withers.  “You've got to be kidding me.  This thing is going to kill me!  What does he mean by my status?”  She looked at Solas with wide eyes.

A wide smile on his face, Solas simply shrugged his shoulders and slipped from the mare’s back.  He rounded the front of his horse before offering her his hand to help her on her mount.

The stallion bent his head toward her, sniffing the tiny creature holding his reigns.  Ciara stroked the horse’s dark face before terrifyingly accepting Solas’ aid, clamoring onto the giant animal.

The horse danced a few steps, testing the rider’s resolve, but Ciara held on tightly, maintaining balance before pulling in the reigns and regaining control of her mount.  As if sensing her determination, the horse slowly stilled, huffing a deep breath that bounced Ciara in the saddle.

She heard a low chuckle to her side and saw Solas leap onto his blindingly white mare.  She was more than slightly jealous at the gracefulness he showed as he effortlessly mounted the animal.

She turned to see if the rest of her party were ready to move on, before her eyes stopped on a sight that nearly sent her reeling from the top of her horse, laughter teasing tears from her eyes.

“Oh yes, laugh it up Sweetie.”  Varric said, well below Ciara and her mount.

He had been given a small buckskin pony to ride.

Her laughter threatened to unseat Ciara as she lost her breath to her fit.  The sight was hilarious, his mount barely reaching the belly of hers.  Still, the stocky dwarf looked like he might smother the animal as it stood on slightly shaky legs. 

Suddenly, Ciara felt sorry for the creature, and she called out to Master Dennett in between breaths.  “Hey Dennett, do you have anything more… sturdy for our dwarven friend here?  I think he’s going to squash that poor animal!”

He looked in their direction, frowning down at Varric.  “Oh, Master Tethras, that’s a pack animal, not a mount.”

New fits of laughter wracked Ciara’s lungs as she slipped from the saddle, landing squarely on her back on the ground.  The force of the impact knocked what little air she had gained from her battered lungs.

“Well, damn it, get me a mount that won’t eat me for breakfast, then!”  He glared at Dennett before his eyes moved to the prone elf.  “Serves you right, laughing at the misfortunate.”

Her stallion nuzzled Ciara curiously, seemingly checking to see she was hurt.  She reached up and petted his nose before climbing to her feet and dusting herself off.

It seemed even Solas had been effected by the sight.  As he came to her side once again, she looked at his face.  Laughter had stained his pale cheeks pink, a small smile still gracing his slender face.

She thanked him, yet again, and accepted his help to get her back on her mount.

Even with such well-trained animals, moving such numbers was slow going.  It was not just the horses in the traveling group, but druffalo as well, serving as pack animals for heavy bales of hay Dennett had insisted on bringing along. 

Apparently the horse master trained more than just his prized steeds, for Varric was solidly seated upon a yearling druffalo, getting no small amount of grief from his companions.  At least he had been given a mount small enough, yet sturdy enough to accommodate the small, muscular man.

“Hey now, lay off Sir Loin!  He’s a damn fine mount!”  Varric patted the druffalo, lovingly.

Ciara, Solas, and Cassandra exchanged glances before all burst into varying degrees of laughter.

Ciara threatened to fall from her saddle again, tears streaming from her face as she held her ribs.

Solas’ shoulders shook subtly, yet no sound escaped his lips.

Cassandra shook her head, chuckling just once before returning Varric’s gleaming smile with as serious a frown as she could manage.  She barely had time to turn away before having to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

* * *

 

Ciara still wanted to warn Haven of the impending arrival of the herd, so she and her companions rode ahead, except Varric who opted to trod along with the rest of the animals.  Druffalo were not known for their speed, or comfort.

Reaching the forward camp, she was greeted by Harding and Balkrinn, both looked a bit more weary since the last time she saw them a week before.

“Hey there, Scout Harding, Balkrinn.  We need to send off a crow to Haven letting them know we have a large number of animals headed their way.  Ask them if they can get some of Cullen’s soldiers to build a pen.  A really large pen.”  Ciara looked at Harding curiously, while remaining seated on her stallion.  Ciara was afraid she would not be able to get back on the enormous animal if she dismounted.

Still ever the soldier, Harding stood at attention.  “Yes ma’am, right away!”  She spun, heading to the raven cages and the bird handler standing nearby.

Glancing down at Balkrinn, she spoke in a lowered voice.  “What’s going on, you both look horrible.”

He glanced back at Harding before replying in a similar tone.  “Oh, nothing to concern yourself with, milady.  Lace and I have just had a few restless nights getting to know each other.  She’s a fascinating creature, that one!”  He grinned widely in Harding’s direction.

“Lace?  Is that some sort of nickname for her?  If so, I really don’t want to know.”  Ciara chuckled, hoping to not get the scout’s attention.

Balkrinn barked a solid laugh.  “Oh no, nothing like that.  It’s her first name, Lace.”

They both ceased talking as Scout Harding returned to their sides.  “Ok, Herald, the crow has been sent, it should reach Haven shortly.  Is there anything else I can do for you while you’re headed back?” 

“Nothing I can think of, just take care of Balkrinn for me while we’re gone.”  Ciara smiled warmly at the pretty dwarf.

Balkrinn glanced around the party.  “Where’s Varric?”

Turning bright pink, Ciara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing again, replying through gritted teeth.  “Oh, he’s on his way.  He decided to hang back with Master Dennett.”

Cassandra held her stomach as she doubled over in fits of laughter.

“We should get going.  Nice to see you again so soon, we’ll be back, I’m sure.  Let Varric know as he passes that we've gone on to Haven.”  Ciara pulled the reigns of her stallion, before spurring him forward.

Both Harding and Balkrinn saluted the group as they passed.

As she jogged away from the forward camp, she turned in her saddle and called out to Harding.  “Take care of my dwarf, Lace!”  She laughed wildly, as she saw Harding punch Balkrinn in the shoulder, before kicking her horse into a gallop, heading in the direction of Haven.

* * *

 

Having received the crow a couple hours ahead of the returning group of three, Cullen had organized his soldiers quickly, urging them into action to build the corral that Ciara had asked for.  Hearing a horn blast from the village, he looked to the horizon and saw them riding swiftly toward Haven.

Ciara saw the construction already in progress and smiled to herself.  Cullen certainly didn't waste any time when he got new orders. 

She rode to the stables with Cassandra and Solas, sliding off her stallion.  The horse was so large, her body jarred painfully every time she dismounted from him.

As she pat the heavily breathing animal, she saw a gloved hand slide over the back of the horse, pulling the saddle off.  A head of blonde hair and a pair of golden brown eyes peeked over the sweat soaked back of the animal down at her.

“I see it was mission accomplished, Herald.  I’m glad that you’ve returned in one piece, and with some impressive mounts.”  Cullen’s voice lilted with a hidden smile.

He walked around the front of the horse, saddle in hand, as he inspected her stallion.  “This is quite the creature for you.  Master Dennett didn’t have anything more comfortable for you to ride?”

Ciara could not restrain her laughter, her thoughts returning to poor Varric.  “Believe me, Commander, you wouldn’t want to see the alternative.  Besides, I’ve grown quite fond of Midnight.”

Solas was heard behind her, his voice light with mirth.  “You named your horse Midnight?  Appropriate, if lacking in some imagination.”

Ciara did her best to look angry at Solas, but found it difficult as Midnight began rubbing his long face up and down her body, scratching at the bridle.  The action sent the little elf stumbling backward before she had a chance to brace herself.  She roughly landed in the dirt, bruising her behind.

Cullen laughed as he bent down to offer his hand to the fallen elf. 

Midnight reached out and bit at Cullen’s face, before pushing his impressive body between him and Ciara.

“Looks like you’ve found yourself a protector, da’len!”  Solas’ eyes shone with laughter.

Ciara chuckled as she gripped the dangling reins of her horse firmly.

Sensing her grasp, Midnight gently stepped back, lifting his huge head to pull her to her feet.

“Oh, I like him.  Protecting my life, and my honor!”  Ciara smiled at the frowning Cullen as she rubbed the crown of the horse’s head.

Wasting no more time, she quickly stabled her horse.  She was eager to get to work with the rest of Cullen’s soldiers to build the fencing needed for the coming onslaught.

Cullen said the latest information was that Master Dennett and his herd would be camping for the night, and would reach Haven by midday the next day. 

The limited crew spent the rest of the afternoon furiously building fences.

Shortly after dark, Ciara was forced to retreat to her cabin, crashing hard onto her bed, not even bothering to undress and crawl under the covers.  She was instantly unconscious, in an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning, Ciara woke with aching muscles.  She was surprised to find that somehow during the night, she had clamored under the blankets, probably as the cold night seeped into her bones late into the evening.

Begrudgingly, she climbed from her comfortable, warm bed, into the chill of the morning cold.  She was still dressed, so she was able to immediately step out into the early sunlight, stumbling down the path to the new corral.

As she neared, she could hear hammers banging away, loudly disrupting the morning silence.  Cullen must have kept his people working in shifts throughout the night to finish the pen. 

Her eyes widened at their progress.  Nearly finished, the corral was nearly the size of the lake that Haven bordered.  She felt giddy with a sense of the power at her fingertips.  She had requested something done, and it was completed before her very eyes.

Scanning the woodwork, she noticed the blonde man hammering at one of the last fence posts. 

 _Had Cullen worked through the night?_   Ciara wondered, amazed at his stamina.

At that moment, Cullen looked up at her and waved.  His brow was soaked in sweat, even in the chill of the mountain morning.

Suddenly feeling guilty that she had enjoyed a long night of sleep, Ciara waved back at the smiling man before heading into the village’s tavern.  She requested a large tray of some bread and hard cheese and several mugs of weak ale.

The tavern keeper sent one of her serving girls with Ciara down to the work-site, arms laden with food and drink for the men.

Ciara shrugged and chuckled at Cullen’s shocked stare.  “I don’t even want to know how long you’ve been up, working on this.  I figured you could use a small break.   Maybe refuel before tormenting your men with more manual labor.”

“Well, that is certainly very kind of you.  Thank you, Herald.”  He said with a shy smile, turning to face his men as a stray hand crept to the back of his neck.  “Soldiers, the Herald was nice enough to bring you a snack!  I expect you to be back on those fences in fifteen minutes!”

Shouts and hollers of glee and thanks filled the air as Ciara was surrounded by hungry men and women.

Sensing that her tray of food would soon be demolished, she quickly grabbed half of a loaf of dark bread and a few slices of cheese.  She held two mugs in her other hand as she headed in Cullen’s direction.  He was still hammering nails into the horizontal planks of the fence.

“Oh take a break, Commander!  I can’t eat and drink all of this, myself!”  She bumped his thigh with her hip, since both hands were full.

He glanced at where she had pushed against him and then into her eyes.  “I should really finish this fence before Master Dennett gets here.”

She did not buy the excuse.  “You said yourself, they aren’t going to get here until midday.  Come on, you’ve got to eat too.  What good are you to the Inquisition if you die of starvation?”  She giggled and walked away to sit on some nearby boulders.

It seemed fortunate that it had not snowed in a few days, the large stones being just flat enough to set the mugs on without worrying about them toppling over.  As she sat, she looked back and found that Cullen had followed her, though he looked reluctant about it.

They ate in silence, Cullen seemingly inhaling his food as quickly as he could.  Ciara wondered if he still regarded her with suspicion.  Perhaps she was forcing him to spend time with her when he did not want to.  The thought kept her mouth silent, the moment stretching, uncomfortably.

Cullen downed his ale as quickly as he had the meal, before jumping to his feet.  He thanked Ciara and ordered one of his soldiers to return the empty dishes back to the tavern.  He turned to her and nodded, then quickly returned to his task.

Ciara thought she should be angry.  She had tried to do something kind for the man and he acted as if he could not move far enough from her.  Instead, she felt a hollow emptiness she could only describe as loneliness.  Surrounded by soldiers, and Ciara had never felt more lonely as she sulked, walking back to the tavern with her escort.

The fence was finished only a couple of hours before the herd crested the horizon. 

A horn blew to announce the arrival of Dennet, the horse master, and his entire stock of trained warhorses.


	8. A Commander's TLC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Master Dennett and his prized horses find their new home, Ciara sees Cullen trying to cover the pain he's obviously in. Determined to win back his good graces, she stops at nothing to ease the aches from the weary Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hubby "Dekan" is awesome. 4am, and he's reading this mess in bed, giving me corrections, and a man's opinion on the situations Ciara finds herself in. As much as I love my other Beta readers, Crystalline and DeviantRhapsody (and I do), sometimes a woman needs a man's touch *wink wink*.
> 
> Thank you all!

After Master Dennett’s herd was successfully corralled in the makeshift pen, it seemed Haven collectively sighed with relief. 

It was late in the afternoon as backs were clapped and drinks poured.  Soldiers and civilians mingled as they trailed along the outside of the new horse arena.  Children screamed at parents, pointing at their favorite horses, pleading for rides.

The soldiers who had the last shift of fence building sat back, relaxing and cleaning the dirt and sweat from their arms and faces.  Cullen was among them, standing tall to see over the crowd’s heads, ensuring the fence held against their new warhorses.

Ciara instantly spotted him amid the masses, his hair shining in the falling sunlight, turning a subtle shade of strawberry blonde.  She noticed a slight wince in his features, and a gloved hand crept to his forehead.  A stronger wince as that gloved hand fell back to his side, Cullen’s opposite hand reaching under the armor at his shoulder.

She recognized the signed of pain.  She had seen enough of it as of late.

She headed off to the apothecary.  Ciara glanced around, looking for Solas around his hut, but he was nowhere to be seen.  Slipping into the healer’s hut, she asked him for his assistance.

The man was only too happy to help the Herald, nearly bowling her over to retrieve the bottle of substance she had asked for. 

“And this will work?”  Ciara questioned the man.

He looked offended and slightly hurt.  “It’s my own concoction, I use it myself.  I wouldn’t if it didn’t work, now would I?”

Offering an apology, she palmed the fluid filled bottle and headed to the barracks.

* * *

 

Cullen had finally found the time to sneak into his tent.  He could have had his own room and a comfortable bed, but he felt more connected to his soldiers if he shared their circumstances.  So he sustained in a tent, sleeping on a cot.

Taking care of his sore arm, he eased the heavy pauldrons from his shoulders, setting the heavy fur lined red cloak on the sole chair in the tent.  He continued unclasping the multitudes of leather straps and buckles that kept his plate from falling to his feet.

Piece by piece, he removed gloves, leggings, and grieves until his aching body was free of the cumbersome metal he insisted on wearing daily.

The pain in his shoulder from hammering nails the last day and a half was miniscule compared to the agony that threatened to consume his head.  Shutting his eyes tightly, Cullen felt his way to his cot and collapsed face first onto it.   He could not remember the last time he had slept.  It had been at least two days since he had closed his eyes for more than a few moments. 

He was unsure if he was forced to stay awake to complete the corral for the much needed horses or if he was afraid to fall asleep.

The nightmares had gotten worse, as of late.  They were all consuming and left him shaking violently the next morning.  He would wake in a cold sweat, migraine temporarily blinding him as he fought, sometimes unsuccessfully, to not heave bile onto the floor of his tent.

The sounds outside were making his ears ring with every sharp voice.  He put his hands to the sides of his head to dull the noises. 

His attempt to drown out the pain was so successful that he nearly missed the woman’s voice gently saying his name.

Cullen removed a hand from an ear as he strained to listen, wondering if his mind was making up the sounds.  But then he heard it again, more clearly, coming from the entrance of his tent.

Silently groaning, he sat up slowly, taking a moment to allow the vertigo to settle before standing.  The woman’s voice continued to ask for him, clearly calling his name from outside.

Wiping a hand across his sweat stained face, he took a deep breath to try and appear normal before pulling back a corner of his tent’s door flap.

Standing in front of him was the tiny elf Herald.  Her bright green tattoos swirled and arched across her high cheekbones, accenting the color of her wide eyes as she peered up at him.  A small smile graced her plump, slightly wind chapped lips.

He didn’t need this, not now.

“Is there something I can help you with, Herald?” 

He tried to appear unfazed by the pounding migraine, but the slight narrowing of her eyes and falter of her smile proved that he was unsuccessful.

Ciara tilted her head slightly, as if judging him.  “I have something for you, Commander.  Consider it a thank you gift for using your men to build the horse pen so quickly.  May I come in?”  The smile returned, wider this time.

“Now isn’t a good time, Herald.  Nor do I require a gift for simply doing my job.  Though I appreciate the thought.”  Cullen’s eyes were forced shut, momentarily.

Ciara gently placed a hand in the center of his chest, pushing slightly to force him back, as she stepped into his tent.  “On the contrary, Commander, the look on your face proves this is exactly the right time.”  The hard muscles tensed under her touch, but he relented, taking a few small steps back.

His eyes widened at the situation, glancing over her head to see if anyone was watching the scene before the tent flap fell back into place behind her.  He drew his attention back to the elf, who was now walking past him to the center of his home. 

“This is hardly appropriate, Herald.  You shouldn’t be in here, alone.”  He suddenly felt panicky, his eyes darting from her to the tent’s entrance and back again.

She laughed quietly as she took in his living quarters.  “Oh screw propriety!  We’re in the middle of a war with a hole in the sky.  Do you really think the world will suddenly end if it were to get out one man and one woman spent a few moments alone?”

She cast her gaze around the tiny room, before landing on his cot.  “A cot?  Really, Commander?  I’m a prisoner, and even I have four solid walls and an actual, comfortable, bed.”

He stepped forward quickly.  “You are _not_ a prisoner, my lady.  You are the Herald of Andraste, and as such would have a suit of rooms had we the resources at hand.”  His golden eyes bored into her green ones.

The sudden wicked smirk on her face told him that she had gotten the reaction out of him that she had wanted.  “And you said that on purpose, didn’t you.”

A light chuckle sounded from the elf as she turned, pulling a small blue flask from her belt, setting it on the low table next to his bed.

She turned back to face him.  “Shirt off.  Lie on the bed.”

“I… ah… _what?_ ”  His aching brain failed to comprehend her demand.

She had to resist laughing at his response.  “I said, take off your shirt and lie on the bed, Commander.”  She looked at him with doe eyes.   “Show me a little faith, please.”

Her plea hit him, solidly.  He had faith in her, he had to. 

With a sigh, he pulled his shirt from the waist of his pants, before tugging the fabric over his head.  When his vision was clear of the cloth, he saw that she was no longer facing him.  She was pulling a towel from her belt and placing it next to the vial on the table.

Against his better judgment, he moved next to her, climbing onto the cot and stretching his body over the small frame, eyes searching the ceiling.

He heard another chuckle, now familiar.  He turned his gaze to meet hers.

“Tempting as the offer may be, I meant lay on your stomach, Commander.”  She smiled, unable to resist taking in the chiseled torso of the man. 

Fine scars were etched across his chest and stomach.  Most of them seemed old, while others looked far more recent. 

She felt her stomach tighten slightly as she watched his muscles ripple, twisting to turn in the opposite direction.  His broad shoulders and the v of his back contracting in ways that make her a bit light headed. 

She was forced to tear her gaze from his body and return to the bedside table.

“So, I know you have a bad headache, and I know your sword arm and shoulder are in pain.  Do you have any other aches?”  She spared him a sideways glance.

His mouth moved a moment before words formed in them.  “Uh… that is, you don’t have to do this, milady.  I’m a soldier, I will endure.”

She knelt next to the cot, coming eye level to the man.  “That isn’t what I asked, Commander.  Where else do you hurt?”  She saw the hesitation in his eyes and placed a soft hand on his exposed shoulder.  “I’m trying here!  Please trust me, at least a little, at least if only for today.”

He shut his eyes, forcing himself to swallow his pride.  She clearly wanted to help him.  “My left knee and thigh, my lower back, my neck.  Name it, Herald and a seasoned soldier aches there.”

Smiling gently, she stood and moved to the chair on the opposite side of the room.  She retrieved his cloak and placed it softly on his behind.  “Remove your pants, you can keep your modesty, and your smallclothes, under your coat.”  She patted his back before stepping to the entrance of the tent.

“I’ll give you a moment.  Be right back, Commander.”  She stepped outside.

Cullen lay still for a moment.  _She can’t be serious._

Still, his body moved without him acknowledging it, standing once more and unlacing the front of his pants.  Sliding them from his hips, he shivered from the cold before returning to the cot and attempting to cover his entire body with the red fabric of his cloak.

Ciara eyed the crowd before landing on a soldier she had recognized as one of Cullen’s lieutenants.  Calling him over, she led him back to the door of Cullen’s tent.  “Commander Cullen is not to be disturbed for the next hour for anything short of an emergency.  Can you stay here and run interference from any reports that may be headed his way?  If anybody needs to speak to the Commander, direct them to wait a bit.  If it’s time sensitive, send them to Seeker Cassandra.  She can handle it.”

Normally, the man would not have taken orders from anyone other than Cullen, but he had seen the Commander earlier in the day, and knew he could use the respite.  He agreed, bowing slightly to Ciara, before pulling a nearby chair to the corner of the tent and sitting down, facing the crowd.

* * *

 

Returning to the interior of the tent, Ciara held back a chuckle.  Seeing Cullen on his cot, eyeing her, covered head to toe in his cloak nearly made her lose her resolve.  She smirked, and turning back to the door, tied the flaps closed so people could not burst in on the scene.

Cullen was grateful of the action, feeling more naked than he had in a very long time.  The only thing keeping him from fleeing was the blinding migraine that seemed to pin him to the bed.

Ciara strode to his bedside and knelt by his side once more.  “Are you ready, Commander?”  She smiled gently, sensing his apprehension.

“I suppose.  I’m at a slight disadvantage at the moment, to disagree.”  He valiantly tried to smile back, his lips quivering with the effort.

Ciara sat on the edge of the cot, near his head.  She needed to get rid of his migraine before he could begin to relax.

She gently urged Cullen to turn his face away from her before running her hands up his neckline and into his hair.

The action instantly drew a low rumble from Cullen’s throat, bringing a smile to Ciara’s face as she continued.

She gently kneaded her fingers through his thick blonde hair, rubbing into his scalp.  His hair felt heavier than it should as she rubbed circles into the crown of his head.  “Do you put something in your hair?”

“Perhaps.” Was the only mumbled response she received from the man.

Mentally shelving further questions for a more appropriate time, Ciara resumed her ministrations, softly moving the slow circling of her fingertips to Cullen’s temples.

She was close enough to smell him.  That he smelled manly would be the best way to describe his scent.  Sweat, dirt, pine, and something too complex to name assaulted her sensitive nose as she continued to massage his throbbing temples.

Ciara moved her hands down to ease his head into a forward facing position before firmly pressing into Cullen’s jaw muscles.  She took note of the pulsing vein in the man’s neck, moving to his slowing heartbeat.  She worked his stubbled face until she could feel the solid muscles loosen.

She returned one hand to the back of Cullen’s scalp as the other reached for the vial, holding it between her thighs as she uncorked the bottle.

Slowly, she stood, careful to not startle the stilled man.

As if uncovering a wounded wild animal, Ciara pulled the cloak up from his feet to reveal his muscular calves and thighs.  She was careful to leave enough fabric to cover his buttocks.

Cullen shivered at the action, causing her to glance at him again.  “Are you cold?  Should I light a fire?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”  He said curtly, his deep voice a near whisper.

Ciara poured some of the liquid into a palm, smelling the oil.  It smelled of sandalwood and cloves, with a tiny waft of mint hitting the back of her throat as she breathed in.

Rubbing the oil between her hands to warm it, the bottle resting on the floor at her feet, she slowly placed her hands on the backs of his calves. 

Cullen jumped slightly, before restraining himself back into the cot.

As he calmed, Ciara began rubbing the oil into his legs, moving both of her hands in sync.  She pressed firmly into the large muscles, working slowly. 

She reached up to press her fingers below the backs of his knees and Cullen tensed again, a low rumble forced from his throat.

 _Oh, so our Commander is ticklish.  That is something to remember later._   Ciara smiled to herself as she lowered her hands from the sensitive areas, working her way down his calves to the back of Cullen’s heels.

Reapplying more oil to her hands and warming up, she corked the bottle and tucked it under her shirt to warm it against her skin.  She knelt at the bottom of the cot and began to firmly massage the Commander’s calloused feet.

As she pressed into his arches, Cullen groaned loudly, but did not pull from her. 

Ciara stole a glance to the doorway of the tent, wondering if the lieutenant was thinking lewd things were happening inside. 

 _Let them._   Ciara thought with a silent chuckle.

Not needing to add more oil, she slowly slid her slick palms back up Cullen’s heels, past his relaxed calves, firmly pressing past his sensitive knees to not tickle him further, and up to the backs of his thighs.

The jump from Cullen that she had expected was surprisingly small, as he relaxed into her touch.

She felt the knot that Cullen had complained about and used both hands to gently knead it loose, before returning to rubbing her hands into both thighs at the same time. 

She spent considerable time working his muscles until she was confident that she had relaxed even the smallest of knots before gently laying the cloak back over his legs to warm them against the evening chill.

Reaching up, she pulled the cloak from Cullen’s shoulders and back, again taking note to not uncover his behind.

Ciara leaned near his ear and whispered to him.  “I’m going to straddle your back, so I can reach everything.  I just didn’t want to surprise you.”

“Mmmmkay.”  The slurred response from the man made her smile with pride.

She used her agility to gently throw a leg over his large body, resting her hips just below his butt.

She pulled the now warm vial from her shirt and uncorked it.  She grinned devilishly as he shivered when she drizzled the warm liquid down his spine.  She thoroughly enjoyed the vibrations he sent through her body from the contact at her hips.

Replacing the bottle into her shirt, she slowly spread the oil over the expanse of his back, coating every inch of hard muscle with the liquid. 

Ciara now worked each muscle group on his back and shoulders individually, taking care of his right shoulder.

She took her time on his sore lower back, dipping her hand as far down his body as she dared, skimming the rounded muscles of his buttocks as she pressed a good portion of her slight weight into the knots.

Realizing that she had reached lower than strictly necessary, Ciara blushed.  She was suddenly glad that Cullen’s face was pointed in the opposite direction.  He had not moved, so she believed she was fairly safe with her indiscretion.

After several moments of firm pressure on Cullen’s back, Ciara moved to his uninjured shoulder. 

She gently coaxed his arm out from under his head, and he responded by removing both arms from his chin, resting them at his sides.  He tilted his head to the side before resting it back on his pillow.  His eyes remained firmly shut.

Scooping up some extra oil pooled on his lower back, Ciara pressed her hands into the solid mass of his shoulder, pulling her hands down his arms as she worked, lifting his arm slightly in the process. 

Her path ended at his upturned palm as she pressed her thumbs into the meat of his hand in small circles.  She gently pulled on each finger, coaxing a small pop from each knuckle, before easing his hand back down to his side.

Turning to the sore shoulder, she spent more time massaging the aching area.  First, she gently rubbed into the muscles, slowly increasing pressure until she was pressing more firmly into the shoulder and upper arm. 

At first, Cullen’s brow furrowed and a moan escaped his lips.  As the massage continued, the tension in his forehead eased away and his breath deepened.

Ciara moved up his body to rest her hips directly on his butt.  She reworked the remaining oil over his back, sliding her hands up his relaxed back, ending at the junction of his shoulders and neck. 

She gently pressed her fingers into the long muscles on either side of his neck, careful to move around his turned head.

She hunted every tense area and teased it into submission with firm fingertips, before returning to a soothing touch. 

As she was nearly finished, she realized the body below hers was breathing deeply.  She slowly leaned forward, over his lax body to scan his face. 

His nearly constant frown was replaced with a peaceful look, as a slight snore was released between his scarred lips.

Suddenly feeling brave, Ciara leaned in close to his face.  Brushing a gently curled strand of blonde hair from his forehead, she pressed her lips to his smooth brow.

She eased back, looking for any sign of Cullen waking at her intimate touch.  He remained still, the snore never ceasing.

Using her skills as a hunter, Ciara eased off of Cullen’s behind and stood at his side.  She reached for the small hand towel she had brought with her. 

She wiped her hands clean before pulling the cloak up his body to keep him warm as he slept.

Silently, she gathered her towel and oil and walked to the door of the tent, untying the knots she had tied.

Casting one last glance in his direction, she smiled at his peaceful face, before turning to step outside. 

She thanked the lieutenant, who grinned knowingly at her, before resuming his watch.  He commented that he wanted his Commander to get as much rest as possible before returning to the grind of his daily duties.

Ciara beamed at the man.  Cullen was well loved by his troops, it seemed.

Thanking him again, she jogged back to her hut, a smile glued to her face that nearly lit up the now-darkened village.

If she had watched him a moment longer, Ciara could not have missed the smile that passed over Cullen’s face before the Fade claimed him.


	9. Leather and Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balkrinn needs to show his intentions toward Harding. Cullen wants to repay the favor Ciara gave him the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Huge thanks to my hubby... He sacrificed a lot to read this smut... (yeah, right, lol) Big thanks to my Beta readers, as well. They eagerly await my smutty chapters, but then again, I await theirs as well! 
> 
> Special thanks to my buddy "Rohan"... who without his hundreds of hours of WoW game-play, we would not have Balkrinn... Good job hun, I'm glad you feel that I've done him justice... thus-far!

As the last horse disappeared over the horizon, Balkrinn sighed with relief.  Although the massive herd was well behaved, the giant animals had threatened to trample the small man.

But he now had another to worry about being squashed, besides himself.

He glanced over at the woman giving orders to the scouts that had just returned from the field.  He had never felt this way about another person. 

Sure, there had been dalliances, flings from time to time.  He was a prince, after all.  In Orzammar, women clamored over each other to find a spot in his bed.  But they meant little to him except a moment of physical release.

From the moment he had met Lace Harding, Balkrinn was smitten.  She was so beautiful.  Born a surface dwarf, she had an exotic accent, making her even more irresistible.  Her soft face was gently marred with and infinite freckles and a long, fine scar lining the left side of her face.  Her green eyes seemed to smile, even during tense moments.  She was fascinating.

Their initial meeting nearly two weeks earlier could have gone smoother. 

Balkrinn chuckled to himself, rubbing a large hand over his face and beard, recalling that day.  He had practically groveled at her feet before he realized what he was doing.

It had taken no small amount of charm to get the seasoned scout to relax around him, but it seemed in her nature to laugh and joke with her companions.  Eventually her defensive walls gave way, revealing the gentle soul beneath, enthralling Balkrinn even further.

One night, nearly a week after they had met, the scouting party enjoyed an evening of ale, stories, and someone’s poor lute playing.  As the night wore on, people began to drift off to their prospective tents.  The woman had snuck up on him, gave him a fierce hug from behind, and placed a quick peck on his cheek before disappearing into her own tent.

Luckily she had not been able to see his response, as a fiery blush spread across his wide cheekbones.  His body instantly reacted to the intimate act, the swelling in his pants becoming increasingly unbearable as he sauntered back to his own tent.

That night, he had remained as silent as a church mouse as he furiously pulled at his throbbing cock, aching for release.  The beautiful dwarf’s face emblazoned on his mind, as he easily imagined those soft lips surrounding his cock.  In a rush, he came, the tiniest cry escaping his lips.  He sighed deeply as he cleaned his mess.  _By the Paragons, I think I’m in love._

* * *

 

Several nights later, Balkrinn felt he was going insane.  Since that first night of self-pleasure, he could not go a single night without his mind wandering.  He kept thinking of her lips, of the strength in her hug.  He desperately wanted to feel those lips, her hands, all of her.  He admonished himself for imagining what she would look like naked, lying exposed below him.

He could not take it anymore.  He had to get a response from her.  Let her deny him, at least then he hoped he could release his heart from this torture and move on.

After the scouts retreated to their tents, Balkrinn slipped from his own and tiptoed across the encampment to Harding’s larger tent. 

Being the leader of the scouting party had its benefits.  Harding’s tent was easily twice as large as the others.  It had thicker canvas as a roof and walls, keeping the occupants warmer in the cool evenings than its smaller counterparts.

Balkrinn eased one of the tent flaps open and slipped inside her darkened room, turning back to the doorway to tie it shut.  Before he could tie the first set of strings, he heard a faint rustling behind him and turned, coming eye level with a sharp dagger.

Harding sighed heavily before lowering her blade.  “By Andraste’s blessing, Balkrinn!  What are you doing in here?”

She was a vision.  Dressed in a simple nightgown, her reddish brown, long hair was loosened from its normal braid, falling in waves over her shoulders and down her ample breasts.

Sensing it was now or never, Balkrinn answered by stepping forward, wrapping his powerful arms around the smaller woman and pressing his aching mouth to hers.

A small gasp escaped her lips, but was hungrily devoured by the impassioned man, as he took advantage of her opened mouth to thrust his tongue between those soft lips.

He expected her to push him away, roughly.  He expected her to yell and scream at him, sending him packing back to Haven with his tail between his legs.  He did _not_ expect her to toss her dagger behind her, before wrapping her strong arms around his neck and pressing her firm body against his.

No words were exchanged as she pulled at the hem of his shirt.  She released the fabric from his trousers and pulling it up over his head, exposed the myriad of tattoos that dotted his thick torso. 

Harding ran a hand through the thick hair on his chest while taking in the variety of designs of the ink.  Some of the tattoos seemed to accentuate old scars, proudly defining the man as a fierce warrior.

Her pale green eyes returned to his darker green ones.  A small smile spread across her face.  “I was wondering when you’d work up the courage.”

His eyes were shocked open.  “You… Why did you not let me know you were interested, milady?”

“What kind of woman do you take me for, Snowball?”  She smirked.

Balkrinn sighed deeply.  “Aye, I’m not to live that one down, aren’t I?”

“Not while I’m around.”  Harding laughed joyously.

To silence her laugh, Balkrinn claimed her mouth once more, pulling her tightly to his body.  His hands traveled up her strong back, gathering her hair before gently pulling it over her shoulder.  He let his hands fall back down, past her waist and the curve of her ass.  He hooked his palms under her meaty thighs, picking her up against his body, and carrying her to the mound of skins and blankets she used as a bed.

Keeping her held to him, Balkrinn kneeled to the floor and gently stretched the panting woman below him.  He ran his hands across her body as his mouth wandered to the softness of Harding’s neck, sucking and nipping gently.

His hands reached the hem of her nightgown, pulling it slowly up her thighs to her hips.

She pushed her hips up, grinding against his stiffened cock, making Balkrinn’s head fall against her shoulder with a loud groan.  She kept her waist glued to his, grinding slowly, as she helped him pull her frock past her wide hips.

Balkrinn pulled her into a sitting position as he knelt between her thighs.  He looked at her questioningly before she nodded her assent.  He then pulled the nightgown over her head, exposing her naked body.

He momentarily forgot how to breathe as his eyes hungrily drank in the sight of the woman.  He could only stay frozen in place as she slowly lowered her body back to the furs.

Her fingertips barely reached his bare stomach, as she traced down to the laces on his breeches.  Her eyes remained glued to his as she expertly untied the knots, loosening the waistband of his pants.

His hands began running from her knees to her thighs and back, pressing gently into her flesh. He stared down at her as she tugged his breeches past his hips, releasing his throbbing cock, drawing a low groan from his throat.

He shimmied out of the leather pants, kicking them from his legs as both dwarves now took in their naked lover.

Balkrinn leaned over Harding, careful to rest his weight on his hand at her side. 

His mouth met hers, surprisingly gentle, but not losing any of the heat their previously furious kisses had.  His free hand skimmed slowly up the inside of her knee to the apex of her thighs, brushing across her soft curls. 

Gently, he pressed a finger between her folds, seeking the sensitive pearl.  She was already wet with need as he rubbed her clit in slow circles, any friction eased by her ample juices.

The feeling of her hot body at his fingertips forced a groan from his mouth.  His hips automatically thrust forward, sliding his smooth cock against her belly, leaving a trail of pre cum below her navel.

His mouth slid down her neck to her breast.  He drew a hardened nipple into his mouth, causing her back to arch into him with a soft cry.  The movement pressed his cock between their bodies, making Balkrinn gasp with the pressure.  He had barely the presence of mind to release her breast for a moment. 

“Shhh, milady.  We don’t want to wake the camp, now do we?”  He was unsure that she could even hear him through her panting, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

His mouth moved to her other nipple.  His tongue tasted the salt of her skin as he circled her pebbled nipple before pressing his mouth to her, nipping gently.

His eager fingers lowered, pressing two slowly into her heat.  She instantly tightened around his fingers, as he felt her thighs shudder at his sides.  He eased his fingers in and out of her drenched cunt, pressing the palm of his hand to her clit.  He drove her higher to her peak, as she wriggled her hips to his touch.

Her breathing became more erratic as her hips began thrusting against his hands, fucking herself on his fingers.  Sensing her need, he pushed his fingers into her tunnel faster, bringing her quickly to her climax.

Balkrinn felt her inner muscles quiver harshly, and he quickly moved his mouth to hers as she came.  Her ankles hooked behind his knees as she keened into his open mouth, the sound smothered by his invading tongue.

He slowed his fingers, removing his palm from her clit, as she came down from her high.  He looked down at the sweating woman in amazement.  _I made her do that._   He kissed her smiling mouth, his cock harder than he thought it ever had been.

He pressed his panting mouth to her ear, whispering gruffly.  “I need you, Lace.  Are you ready for me, love?”

All she could do was nod, as her breath slowly returned to her.

Taking himself into his palm, he slid his girth along her slit, gathering the ample moisture to ease his entry.  Slowly, he pressed the head of his cock into her opening.  He held his breath as he slid into her, carefully watching her face for any sign of displeasure.

With amazement, he finally released his breath when his groin pressed against her hips, fully seated within her.  Harding was moaning quietly beneath him, her head slowly tossing side to side as her cunt squeezed his cock rhythmically.

Pressing his body to hers just enough to keep her still, Balkrinn began slowly sawing into her quim, increasing speed until he had established an eager, steady pace.

Harding moved her ankles to lock behind his back, angling her hips upward to take him more deeply into her.  The new angle pressed his cock into the spongy area at the front of her cunt, sending her rising quickly to her second peak.

He could feel her breath coming quickly again, and chasing his own release, he picked up speed, slamming into her body.  Each thrust pulled a huff from both dwarves as sweat dripped down Balkrinn’s back with the effort of their coupling.

He leaned forward and nibbled on her earlobe, pulling slightly.  The act caused a chain reaction.  Harding exploded a second time, only silencing her cry by biting into Balkrinn’s shoulder.  The pleasure-pain of the love bite sent Balkrinn over his peak, and he thrust erratically, spilling his seed deep into her, grunting harshly with each finishing thrust.

Slowly, the couple stilled, remaining locked in each other’s arms. 

Balkrinn raised his head from Harding’s shoulder to look in her eyes.

She looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes, smiling gently as she brushed his hair away from his sweating brow.  Suddenly, she started to chuckle softly.

Sliding his sensitive, softening cock from her shaking body, he looked at her quizzically.  “I’ve missed a joke, aye?”

“Your beard is tickling me.”  Harding was trying to move the heavy braids of his beard from her neck.

Rumbling a chuckle from deep in his chest, he rose from her sweat-soaked body, collapsing beside her in the heap of furs.

“As much as I want you to, you know you can’t stay the night.  I do have my reputation within the Inquisition to maintain.”  Harding twisted so her naked body was facing his.

He cupped her blush covered cheek.  “Aye, I know, my love.  Let us have a few moments longer.” 

He drew her head to his chest as he stared at the ceiling of the tent, thanking every Paragon that ever lived for the woman curled into his arms.

* * *

 

As the sun crested the mountain tops surrounding Haven the next morning, Cullen stretched his relaxed muscles as he stood from his cot.  For the first time in longer than he could remember, he had slept peacefully, without the ever-present nightmares to jar him awake.

He tested his shoulder and found a dull ache was still present, but the agony of raising his arm had disappeared.  The muscles of his neck and back did not scream at him with every twist and bend, as they had the day previously.

Cullen glanced into the small mirror hanging from the tent wall above the wash basin.  His eyes were more cleared of sleeplessness than they had been in probably ten years or longer.  Reaching into a drawer under his bedside table for the jar of hair cream he used to tame his blonde curls, he smoothed his wild morning hair back into place.

As he smoothed the last stray hairs from his forehead, he noticed a faint mark on his brow.  Touching the light lip dye residue, his mind returned to the previous evening, and he smiled.

In truth, he had been on the cusp of falling asleep as her incessant touch released him from his tensed muscles and abhorrent migraine.  He had to draw on all of his remaining willpower to not respond to the kiss she had laid on his head.

Once again, he looked at his face in the mirror.  He shook his head, smirking at the cherry-red blush that covered his cheeks before splashing fresh, cold water on his face to tame the fire on his skin.

Patting his face dry, he dressed.  Cullen noticed that he still smelled of the oil Ciara had used last night.  It was a pleasant scent to him, and he hoped it would linger, at least until he could thank her for her gift with one of his own.

He froze, blinking.  _What do I give her?  I don’t even know what she likes!_

He paced for a moment before thinking of the one woman who might be able to help him procure a gift for the tiny elf:  Josephine.

He raced out of his tent, past the now-empty chair outside, and jogged to the chantry to seek out the Inquisition’s political advisor.

* * *

 

Finding Josephine in her office already, he closed the door behind him, returning her morning greetings.

“I need a favor, Lady Montilyet.  I need to get a gift for someone, but I don’t know what to give them.”  He looked down at her with pleading eyes.

Josephine’s own eyes widened as a smirk creased her lips.  “A gift?  That is unexpected from you, Commander.  Pray-tell, who do you need to give a gift to, and why?”

Knowing if he were to get anything from this master of the Game, he’d have to be honest, at least a little.

“The Herald gave me a gift last night, presumably to bury the hatchet, and no, not in my skull.  I think it would be appropriate if I returned the favor and gave her a gift of my own.  I know nothing of the woman, however, so I don’t know what an appropriate token is.”  He felt that was enough information, without speaking on the entirety of last night’s events.

Her grin widened into a brilliant beaming smile.  “I’m so glad you both have decided to put your differences aside!  You both are more than invaluable to the Inquisition, and having you at each other’s throats is not good for our image.”

Josephine was always thinking of practical ramifications, if not more than a bit excessively.

She stood and turned to a large chest behind her.  “The best thing to do, in our current situation, is find a gift that we already have, instead of wasting time and resources procuring one in Denerim or Val Royeaux.  We’ve had many patrons donate several exquisite items from their personal possessions.  Let’s see what we have here.”  She began digging through the chest.

“Those donations should be for the good of the Inquisition, I couldn’t use anything in there as a gift, my lady.”  His brow furrowed as he tried to glance over the shoulder of her billowing golden shirt.

She laughed loudly.  “Commander Cullen, these were given to us because we harbor the Herald of Andraste.  If anything, these would be the most appropriate for her.”

Knowing it would be a lost cause to argue with her, Cullen stood tall and silent behind her, his sweating hands clasped tightly behind his back.

“Aha!”  Josephine cried as she pulled an item on a silverite chain from the mass of items.  “This will do perfectly!”  She turned back to Cullen, handing him a necklace.

He looked at the pendant, turning it over in his hand. 

The silverite pendant and matching necklace were not tiny, but small enough for her to hide under her armor while in combat.  If she decided to wear it at all, that is.  On the front was an expertly etched figure of Andraste, herself.  The figure’s flowing dress sparkled with inlaid jewels. 

It was obvious the necklace once belonged to a very wealthy person.

“Lady Montilyet, I cannot give this to her, it’s much too valuable!  I certainly can’t afford such an item.”  He tried to hand the dazzling necklace back to her.

She stepped away from him, her hands up.  “Nonsense, Commander.  I said it would be perfect for her, and it is.  She _is_ the Herald of Andraste, after all.  If the world accepted her as we do, she would be draped head to toe in the finest fabrics and jewels, and you know it.”  

She lowered her hands and sat at her desk again.  “And as far as you being able to earn it, you need not worry of that.  You’ve dedicated yourself to this organization.  Consider this gift as a raise.  I’ll inform Sister Leliana of the transaction.  You may go, Commander.”  She picked up a pen and began writing on the papers lying on her desk.

He stood frozen, his arm still outstretched, for a moment longer before realizing that she was not going to accept the necklace back, and the conversation was over.  He mumbled a “Thanks”, before opening the door to her office and stepping back into the main room of the Chantry.

Josephine raised her gaze to the retreating man as he shut the door behind him.  She smiled broadly, chuckling quietly.  “You’re welcome, Commander.  Have fun.”  Her murmur was quiet enough that only she was capable of hearing it.

* * *

 

Stepping from the Chantry, Cullen allowed his eyes a moment to adjust to the bright morning sunlight before striding toward Ciara’s cabin.

As he neared her door, his breathing became shallower, and he thumbed the necklace in his hand.  Part of him hoped she did not take the gift the wrong way, but a larger part wondered what would happen if she did.

Before he could lose his nerve and turn away, he forced his hand to knock on her door.

There was no answer, so he eased the door open a crack.  “Herald, it’s Commander Cullen.  Are you there?”  Silence filled the air.

Pushing the door the rest of the way open, Cullen stepped into her room.  She was not there.

Frowning, he stepped outside again, shutting the door behind him as a runner jogged up to him.  “Commander, I’ve been looking for you.  Seeker Cassandra and the Herald left a short time ago, returning to the Hinterlands.  Sister Leliana received a note from the leader of the mage rebellion, inviting them to talk.”

Feeling deflated, Cullen could only nod.  He thanked the runner as he began to step around him to head back to his tent.

“Commander!”  The runner regained Cullen’s attention.

“ _What?!”_   Cullen growled more aggressively than he intended to, seeing the runner shrink back.  “What is it?  I’m on my way to the training grounds,” he said, more calmly.

A shaky hand held a piece of folded paper out to him.  “Before she left, the Herald asked me to give this letter to you.”

As soon as Cullen took the note, the runner excused himself, and true to his title, ran away quickly.

Cullen walked back to his tent, using his long legs to carry him as fast as possible without drawing attention.  Stepping inside his tent, he unfolded the note, the silverite chain still dangling from his hand as he read.

_Dear Commander, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to say goodbye to you this morning before we left._

_We were forced to leave before the sun even rose.  Leliana received startling information on the rebel mages in Redcliff that we simply cannot ignore any longer._

_I just wished I could see if you were feeling better this morning.  Thank you for letting me help you.  It was truly a pleasure._

_We should be back soon.  I haven’t decided to ask for the mages help, so don’t worry.  But Leliana told me that I needed to at least give them a chance.  I guess she’s right._

_I hope you’re not angry that I went to talk with them._

_See you soon, my Commander._

_~Ciara~_

His cheeks ached from the smile that refused to leave his cheeks in the time it took to read the letter. 

Rereading the last bit, he wondered if she had meant to call him hers, or if he was just over-thinking the sentiment.

Deciding to hold on to the necklace until she came back, he slipped the chain around his neck and tucked it under his shirt.

Cullen spent the rest of the day training his ever-expanding army, smiling inwardly as the silverite pendent pressed gently over his hammering heart.


	10. Unexpected Talents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearing troubling reports from Redcliff, Ciara and crew head out immediately. They meet a flashy, handsome mage, and get terrifying news. Racing back to Haven to discuss strategy, the group is forced to camp for the night. They are attacked in the pre-dawn hours, badly injuring one member of the group, and sending our hero tail-spinning into self-doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, DeviantRhapsode, Crystalline, and Dekan (I figured I might as well start referring him as my Beta reader)! Writing this chapter at 6am with zero sleep has drawbacks, and their help was need, more than ever! I know the readers benefit massively from your combined experience!
> 
> The tale gets interesting from here, folks!
> 
> *edit* Due to an inconsistency error on behalf of the writer, Ciara's note to Commander Cullen at the end of the last chapter has been edited, thank you for your patience and understanding as the writer pulls her head from her ass*

Ciara wished she had been able to see Cullen before heading off to the hinterlands again. 

Leliana woke her early that morning, before the sun began to shine above the mountain peaks to the East.  She had received a crow during the night.  The message attached to the bird’s leg was cryptic, mentioning a Tevinter magister, the mages of Redcliff, and the possibility of a trap.

Leliana told Ciara that she felt if Tevinter was trying to gain the support of the rebel mages, they could become powerful enough to invade Orlais and Ferelden.  The precedent was there, as Tevinter had invaded the countries previously, decimating the landscape in their wake.

Ciara felt uneasy going to the mages in their stronghold, especially since Leliana insisted they go with their small group.  “Easier to slip in and out if necessary,” she had claimed.  Being the spymaster of the Inquisition, Ciara felt compelled to believe her, but that did not quell the dread settling in the pit of her stomach.

Claiming she needed to dress, Ciara ushered Leliana out of her cabin before rushing to find a piece of parchment and a quill.  As quickly as she could, she scrawled a note to Cullen, hoping her ministrations to his aching body had carried into today.

Scrambling to gather her traveling gear, she rushed from her room, and into the tavern where the runners of the night watch kept awake in case they were needed.  Handing the runner her note, she relayed her message to him, with the instructions that he was to wait until Cullen had woke. 

She stole a glance in the direction of the Commander’s tent, as she raced to the stables where her stallion was already saddled, waiting for her. 

Solas held the reigns of the animal, mounted atop his own.  He jogged his horse in her direction, tossing the reigns into her outstretched hands. 

She quickly tied her gear to the saddle before jumping with all her might to get in the saddle.

The group of four left the village at a walk, to not wake any of the inhabitants.  Ciara took one last look at Cullen’s tent as they passed by, silently.

* * *

 

By midday, the group had reached the gates of Redcliff, the rebel mage’s stronghold.  They would have been able to ride straight through the gates, if a twisting Rift hadn’t opened directly in front of the opening, pouring demons from its maw.

Stopping their horses a safe distance from the Rift, Ciara and her companions gathered their weapons, and crept closer to the strange looking portal. 

Once close enough, Cassandra screamed her battle cry and threw herself at the nearest demon.  Her shout had successfully caught the attention of every demon in the area.  She expertly used her large shield to protect her from the teeth and claws of the assaulting creatures, as the remaining group rained damage down on the demons from a distance.

The demons were easy enough to slaughter, and Ciara once again called on the power of the mark to close the Rift. 

This one was different, however.  As the hole snapped shut, the very surface of the ground jerked sideways under the party’s feet.  The sun had seemed to shift slightly in the sky, causing Ciara to feel slightly dizzy on her feet, and she pressed a shaking hand to Solas’ shoulder for support.

Varric stood closer to Cassandra, and the woman stumbled a bit before falling to her knees.  The dwarf caught her in his arms before she fell completely to the ground.  As Cassandra regained her bearings, she realized Varric was holding her to his chest, his face smirking at her.  She shoved him away before standing once more. 

“Keep your hands to yourself, dwarf.”  She brushed dirt from her knees after sheathing her sword and shouldering her shield.

The laughing dwarf did an over exaggerated bow in her direction.  “You’re welcome, Seeker.”

Ciara closed her eyes, willing her equilibrium to steady.  When she reopened her eyes, Solas was staring down at her with concern. 

His long arms had instinctively wrapped around her narrow frame, pressing her into his flat body.  “Are you alright, da’len?”  His sky blue eyes pierced hers, a line of worry creasing his forehead.  His strong grip remained on her waist a moment as she tried to take a step back.

“I think so, what was that?!” 

Solas slowly released her, watching to see if she could stand on her own.  “That Rift was unlike the others we’ve encountered.  As you closed it, I felt the Fade shift.  I think we went forward in time!”  His gaze scanned the area, fascination was apparent on his face.

Varric scoffed.  “Forward in time?  Wonderful, just what we needed, _less_ time to deal with our issues.”

“It was not a lot of time, Master Tethras.  T’was mere moments, but the fact that it happened at all is amazing!”  Solas replied to the dwarf as one of the Inquisition’s scouts was seen jogging to the party from inside the gates.

“Seeker, Herald, I’m glad you’ve come.  Something strange has happened.  I was the one to send the crow to Sister Leliana.  Somehow in the past week, a Tevinter magister has set up residence in Redcliff Keep, removing the Arl from his position.  He has also gained the allegiance of the rebel mages, by binding the entirety of their forces to Tevinter.”  The man was breathless and shaky.

Cassandra nearly yelled at the scout.  “Why weren’t we made aware of this _days_ ago, scout!  We came as soon as we were informed.  If you had told us of the situation early enough, we could have stopped it!”  She gripped the man by the collar, pushing him back a step.

The shaken man rambled out.  “That’s just it Seeker, all of this happened just yesterday.  I don’t know how he did it, I don’t remember him even coming into the town!  It just… happened!”  He looked on the verge of tears.

Ciara placed a gentle hand on Cassandra’s arm.  “Enough, can’t you see the man is terrified?  This is probably connected with the Rift we just closed.  We need to investigate.  If there is something wrong with the veil holding the Fade closed, we need to know about it immediately, not fight with our own men.”  She firmly pulled Cassandra’s arm away from the frightened scout.

“She is right, this is no longer about the rebel mages, the more important topic is this time shift, and what it’s doing to the veil.”  Solas nudged the scout past the party.  “Go back to the forward camp, tell Scout Harding what happened here, and have her send a replacement.”

“Before you got here, a man claimed to know what was going on, he said he’s waiting for you in the Chantry.  I suggest you start there.”  He did not so much as steal a glance back as he ran off, into the wilderness.

* * *

 

The party retrieved their mounts and rode into the city.  People mingled everywhere, unease nearly palpable as they whispered amongst themselves, watching Ciara ride past.

Riding directly to the town’s Chantry, the group tied their horses to the hitching post outside. 

Ciara was nearing the door as the unmistakable sound of combat sounded in the room beyond.  She ran forward, pulling her daggers free, before shoving the door open. 

In the center of the chantry, a large Rift snapped loudly, and her mark responded by spilling green light from her palm.  A well-dressed man stood near the Rift, his staff flying elegantly over his head as balls of fire flung from its tip.  The demon he was facing became engulfed in flames, screaming in agony as it melted to the floor, disappearing.

“Good, you’re finally here!  Now help me close this, would you?”  The mustached man asked Ciara, before more demons began spilling from the portal.

She dodged around a pillar, singling out one of the weaker demons and attacking.  The others followed suit, and before long, the Chantry was clear of monsters. 

Ciara raised her hand to the Rift, closing it swiftly before more demons could come through.

The man gently grabbed her marked hand and turned it over in his soft palms.  “Fascinating!  How does that work, exactly?”  His eyes roamed up her body before landing on her eyes.   “You don’t even know, do you?  You just wiggle your fingers and boom!  Rift closes.”  He chuckled, releasing her hand.

Ciara nearly laughed with the man before reigning herself in.  “I suppose you are the one who said they know what’s going on around here?”

“Ah, yes.  Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.  My name is Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous.  How do you do?”  He dipped with an extravagant bow.

Varric stepped to Ciara’s side.  “He’s from Tevinter, Beautiful.  They are the reason we’re here, don’t forget.”

“What cautious friends you have.  My assistance should be of value as Magister Alexius was once my mentor.”

Ciara tilted her head slightly.  “And I’m assuming Alexius is the cause of the time shifts?”

“Oh, you felt that, did you?  Yes, I believe he’s responsible.  Of course the magic he used was merely theoretical when I left his tutorage.”  Dorian’s expression darkened, his eyes reflecting past events for just a moment, before snapping back to the present. 

“It seems he has used the magic, distorting time.  He did this to procure the mages out from under you, before you could get here in time.  The problem is, this magic is wildly unstable.  Soon, you will see time altering rifts appearing further away from Redcliff.  It is slowly unraveling the world.”

“All of this seems quite farfetched.  Do you have any proof?”  Ciara took a step closer to the man, sizing him up.

Dorian scoffed.  “I know what I’m talking about, I helped develop the magic.  What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it.  A few hundred mages is nothing to a man like Alexius.”

“He didn’t do it for them.  He did it for you, Herald.”  A new voice sounded from the shadows, and a young man stepped forward.

A laugh sounded from Dorian.  “Took you long enough, Felix.  Is your father getting suspicious?”

“Not yet, but he will soon.”  Felix turned to Ciara.  “My father has joined a cult called the Venatori, a group of Tevinter supremists.  All I know is whatever he’s done with this magic, he’s done it to get to you.”

“Me?  Why would he tear a hole in time to get to me?”  Ciara’s wide eyes stared at Felix, as anger began to well inside her.

Dorian stepped between Felix and Ciara.  “You know he’s coming for you.  I want to help you, but I cannot stay in Redcliff.  I will join your Inquisition, if you’ll have me.  But I want to be there when you take Alexius down.”

“Whoa, I just met you, and you want to join the Inquisition?  Why should we trust you?”  Ciara narrowed her eyes at the handsome man.

Dorian’s white teeth flashed with his smile.  “Well, that’s simple my dear.  If you don’t we’ll all die.  I may originally be from Tevinter, but I have few friends there.  I have no interest in gaining power for my homeland.  But I _do_ have a strong interest in living another day.  So, what do you say?  Take a chance on an outcast in hopes of saving the world?”

Ciara was silent for a moment.  She could hear Cassandra grumbling quietly behind her while her other companions remained silent, allowing her to make the call. 

“You know what?  All of us are outcasts in one way or another, and we’ve all banded together to save the world.  Why not bring another wayward soul into the fold.  Welcome to the Inquisition, Dorian Pavus.” 

She grasped his hand, firmly shaking it before she pulled his face in close to hers and whispered, “If you betray us at all, I’ll bury my dagger in the base of your skull, understand?”

Dorian pulled back from the elf, laughing.  “My dear, if I betray you, a dagger to the brain would be the least of my problems, I’m sure.”

Ciara smiled at the mage.  “Very well, then.”  She turned her gaze on the man behind him.  “Felix, where is your father now?” 

“He is in the keep.  You won’t be able to reach him now.  I’ll talk to him, ease him into accepting an audience with you.  I don’t know how long that will take, however.”  Felix glanced at Dorian nervously.  “I need to get back before I’m missed.  Try to be good.”

“Try to not get yourself killed, Felix.”  Dorian slapped him on the back.

He didn’t return the gesture, as his eyes bore into Dorian’s. “There are worse things than death, Dorian.”

* * *

 

Hiding Dorian’s unique features under a heavy cloak they had found in the Chantry, the group mounted their horses and retreated from the city.  The new man sat on the black stallion with Ciara, soft hands clasped tightly around her waist.

The sun was beginning to touch the hills to the west, lowering quickly in the sky.

Cassandra pulled her horse up to Ciara’s.  “We’ll need to make camp tonight.  It’s too dangerous to travel around here in the middle of the night when we don’t have either the mages or Templars to protect us.”

Begrudgingly, Ciara agreed, her butt and thighs sore from all of their recent horseback riding.

They found a small clearing and unpacked their horses.  They set up camp, Dorian making himself useful by building a roaring fire in the middle of the camp.  Not bothering with tents, as it was a clear night, a watch schedule was organized for the night, and everyone crawled into their bedrolls to sleep.

* * *

 

Ciara was firmly woken a short time later by Solas.  “Is it my watch, already?”

“No, da’len, quietly prepare yourself.  We are being watched and I believe we’re about to be attacked.”

Her eyes shot open as she glanced around.  The rest of their party was swiftly, but nonchalantly gathering their weapons and putting on their armor.  Varric was pretending to roll up his sleeping roll, making it seem like they were pulling up camp early.

Ciara had barely secured her daggers to her hips as a shrill cry filled the forest around them.

At the sound, a dozen or more men and women, all in dirty garb, poured from the bushes and trees.  The bandits apparently had thought the group was unfamiliar in battle, and they rushed the encampment in sloppy fashion.

Ciara immediately slipped her daggers from their sheaths, and sprinted toward the nearest man.  She easily took him down, feinting behind him before thrusting the blade of her dagger in the base of the man’s neck.

She crossed her blades in front of her to block an incoming sword attack.  The woman was strong, but unbalanced, so Ciara kicked her knee in backward, sending the human sprawling to the ground, screaming.  The elf quickly kneeled next to her head, pulling her by the hair to expose her neck, and drawing her blade across the soft flesh forcefully.

She heard a familiar voice cry out behind her and she spun.

Varric was lying on the ground, face down, his eyes shut.  Blood pooled on the ground beneath him.

Ciara’s eyes widened as her sight fixated on the man raising an axe above the prone dwarf.  Her vision seemed to redden as she screamed, a hand flying out to stop the attacking human. 

She was too far away to reach him, but the man stumbled forward, bursting into flames.  He managed to run a short distance from the scene before succumbing to the charring of his flesh, collapsing in a mound of smoldering embers.

Ciara looked to her mages to see who to thank for saving Varric’s life. 

Dorian was busy on the far side of the camp.  He was laughing as he sent lightning bolts across the battlefield, stunning several bandits before sending more magical missiles in their direction.

Solas was aiding Dorian, spinning his own staff above his head, spiraling green spells from the pole at the attackers.   His victims fell to their knees in agony as they grabbed their heads, their eyes rolling back in their sockets as blood poured rapidly from their noses, before they collapsed in shuddering heaps.

Cassandra was between the two men and Ciara, going hand to hand with a single, large bandit.  Her shield took the hits from his Warhammer with ease, as she sliced at his arms during his wind up.

Confused, Ciara looked back at the unconscious man.  His lower shoulder had been punctured from a surprise attack from behind.  Ciara pressed her hands to his wound roughly, her vision going fuzzy with rage at the fallen comrade. 

As she pressed into his shoulder, Ciara felt her calm slipping, screaming out a cry for her injured friend.  A split second later, Varric jerked a bit, crying out in pain as the smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils again. 

His yell drew her attention and Ciara looked down at Varric as he writhed slightly under her hands, moaning unintelligibly.  She removed her hand to check the bleeding wound and gasped loudly.  The wound had sealed, a dark char mark below her palm searing the injury closed.

Ciara fell back to the ground with a cry.  She crawled backward, away from the dwarf, in horror.

Solas fell to his knees at her side, gathering her into his arms.  She looked up at him, eyes wider than he’d ever seen as she yelled to him.  “What did I do, Solas?  What have I done?!”He frowned, tucking her head beneath his chin as he signaled Dorian to help Varric.

Cassandra was just now pulling her bloodied sword from the chest of her opponent, wiping it on the rags of his clothing before returning it to her scabbard.  She turned around and took in the scene.

Dorian was kneeling next to the bloodied Varric, but it was obvious he lived, as he moaned.  She was surprised how relieved she was to actually be able to _hear_ the dwarf.  A short distance away, Solas was cradling the Herald, rocking her as he pressed his mouth to the crown of her head.   His mouth moved in silent whispers only Ciara was close enough to hear.

“What in the Maker’s name has happened?”  She strode in between to two pairs. 

Dorian spoke first.  “The dwarf’s been stabbed in the back.  But he must have taken a stray fireball to the same area, as it’s burned closed.  Fortunate too, as he quite possibly would have bled out from this wound.”

Cassandra spun to face the two elves.  “Solas, what’s wrong with the Herald?”

He continued to rock the shocked woman, soothing her with gentle strokes along her bare arm.  “It was no stray fireball, as our Tevinter friend suggested.  Ciara burned Master Tethras.  It would seem our Herald has magical abilities, after all.”

Ciara cried out, turning her head into Solas’ shoulder.  “No!  That can’t be!  I’m not a mage.  How can I be a mage?  I’m sick to death of this shit falling on me!”  Her shoulders began to shake as she continued to ramble, her speech slipping between Common and Elven.

“Calm yourself, da’len.  I have a theory about your newfound talents.  The mark on your hand is obviously a very powerful magic, and you can use that easily enough.  Most elves have the ability to use magic, but only a few have the power for their magic to show.  I believe that the mark may have given you the power to unlock your latent magical capabilities.  It is not something to shy from, da’len.  You should be elated to have the ability to use the power that all elves once held.”

Ciara pulled back as if he had struck her.  She jerked her body from his grasp as he sat, stunned at her reaction to his seemingly soothing words.

“Elated?  You mean I should be happy to have this… _curse_?”  She pierced Solas with her gaze, as she stood.  “This must be a fluke!  The mark must have backfired, burning Varric… Oh by the Creators, Varric!  Is he going to be okay?”  She aimed the question at Dorian’s wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear, he will be fine.  But he should not be moved more than absolutely necessary for the next couple of days.  Speaking of which, Cassandra, could you help me move him onto a clean bedroll?”

Cassandra immediately knelt at the dwarf’s side, easing her hands under his broad chest, as Dorian grasped his ankles.  They gently lifted the moaning man and moved him to one of the bedrolls that had been abandoned in the ambush.

Solas had returned to a standing position and dared to place his hand on Ciara’s shoulder.   “It really is nothing to worry about.  If anything, it will make it easier to control the mark and seal the Breach.”

She tore her shoulder from his grasp, twisting away from the man as her vision began to spin.  “You don’t understand.  I _can’t_ be a mage, I can’t!  Not… now.  Not… when… I’ve… finally…”  Ciara’s speech slurred as she stumbled, collapsing. 

Solas dived for the falling elf, drawing her to his chest as he landed on his back, cushioning her fall.  He twisted his body from under hers, bending to pick her up and place her on another empty bedroll, close to the dead fire.

With a simple hand motion, the fire roared back to life as Solas placed his hands on either side of her head, looking into the face of the small elf.  “She’s not unconscious, just in shock.”  He wrapped her in the bedroll and pulled her into his lap, facing her to the fire.

The sun was just brightening the sky off in the distance as Solas turned his face to Cassandra’s.  “Seeker, the forward camp should be just a couple of hills over.  Master Pavus is watching over Master Tethras, we need you to go for help.”

Seeing that she was the most logical choice, Cassandra nodded once before turning and sprinting to her horse.  She spurred the animal into a fast gallop, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.

Surrounded by the corpses of a dozen bandits, Solas pressed his lips to Ciara’s long, slender ear, whispering soothing elvish lullabies as he rocked the frail, shaking elf.

 


	11. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the weary party returns to Haven, Ciara avoids Cullen, worrying him. He demands information, then offers help to the Herald. Things get heated, and he's forced to harm her, feeling guilty in the process. Fluff and Hilarity ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much DeviantRhapsode and Crystalline for your amazing comments on this chapter. It was a pleasure to write. Poor Ciara... I'd have had a breakdown by now.
> 
> At a stroke of genius (I hope...) This story will be "hip-bumping" Crystalline's own epic piece, "Bridging the Divide" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/3589317)   
> It will not be "necessary" to read her story, I would highly recommend it, however.   
> It's awesome!   
> I know, I Beta read for her... trust me.

“I still say that bringing the rebel mages into the Inquisition is a terrible mistake!”  Cullen nearly shouted across the war table at Leliana.

The spymaster leaned over the table, placing her hands on the map to keep them from inadvertently slipping to her daggers in anger.  “The mages deserve to be freed!  They’ve suffered enough!  You served in the Circles, and you know what they are put through on a daily basis.  How can you still side against them?”

“Because they’re dangerous without barriers!  They’re downright deadly, and not only to the people surrounding them, but to themselves, if their minds are weak.”  His head was beginning to ache. 

This familiar argument only seemed to circle between the two advisors.  The likelihood that it would ever be settled appeared small, as both people were steadfast in their convictions.  Leliana’s weakness toward the mages was equally opposed by Cullen’s distrust.

A knock on the heavy door to the war room drew their attention as it opened.  One of Leliana’s spies stepped to her and whispered in her ear, handing her a piece of paper in the process.

She nodded to the man, who quickly retreated, closing the door behind him.

Leliana opened the folded note, silently reading as Cullen continued to rub his neck with a gloved hand.

“Must we go over this again?  This discussion never ends with anything other than the two of you glaring like angry children at each other.  Let us wait until Seeker Cassandra and the Herald return from Redcliff.  Then we can discuss it with them, and maybe get some unbiased opinions.”  Josephine sounded the voice of reason.

Leliana looked up from the paper, slowly meeting each of the other’s eyes for a brief moment.  “It seems we won’t have to wait long.  Scout Harding sent a crow informing us that the party is on its way back to Haven.  They were attacked by a group of bandits in the middle of the night.  Varric has been badly injured, and the Herald is awake, but unresponsive.”

Cullen’s stomach knotted as his heart stuttered for a moment.  “Is she alright?  Was she injured?”

“I don’t know, Commander.  They’re on their way back as we speak.  Depending on how fast they are traveling, they could arrive at any moment.”

“I’ll inform the healers, in case both of them are in need of medical treatment.”  He rounded the table and slammed the door open, before jogging down the hallway and out of the Chantry.

Leliana and Josephine were left in the war room, staring at each other with worried faces.

* * *

 

It was several hours before the horn sounded, announcing the arrival of the road weary party.  The sun was just slipping below the mountainous horizon as the four horses and their riders neared.  The filthy group walked their horses into camp, quickly surrounded by soldiers and healers.

Balkrinn had joined the group to help Varric, keeping him upright as they shared a horse.  He was careful to not touch his shoulder, as every brush of fabric caused the small man to stiffen, hissing in a breath with the pain.

Varric was awake, but only barely.  The wound on the back of his shoulder was packed with a poultice, but would probably require surgery to clean and close the gaping hole left behind.

Solas and Dorian shared a horse, looking exhausted.  Both had used a great amount of magic to keep Varric’s wound from festering, while trying to dull the pain from the burn as much as they could.  They had taken shifts watching over the dwarf, ensuring more magic could be poured into him if the agony became too much.

Cassandra led the group, looking mostly alert, despite the dark bags under her eyes.  The warrior had only slept the minimum amount required for her to be able to hold her sword and shield.  She had kept a vigilant watch over the party as they traveled, ensuring their safe return.

At the rear of the pack, Ciara’s head bobbed with the movement of her horse.  She swayed side to side, appearing to come close to falling from her saddle with every step.  Her eyelids would drop for a moment, before shooting wide the next.

She continued to ride past the stopping party, ignoring questions from healers and soldiers as she trudged on to the stables.  Sliding from her horse, she remained by Midnight’s side, holding onto the horn of the saddle for dear life as her legs nearly failed her.

Ciara wrapped the reigns of the stallion around the corner post of his stall before turning to retreat to her room.  She was far too exhausted to deal with the unsaddling of her horse, but she knew that Master Dennett would take care of the animal.

As she turned, Cullen stood in her path, staring at her with open concern evident on his face.

“Herald?  The news we got said you were unresponsive after the attack.  Are you alright?”  He took a step toward her, but Ciara cringed and quickly stepped back, ceasing Cullen’s advance, a twinge of pain hitting him square in the chest. 

Her eyes remained downcast, but Cullen could see the sparkle of tears at the corners, threatening to fall.  “What’s wrong, Herald?  What happened to you?”  He slowly reached out a hand to her, but she retreated again, moving around the front of her horse to the other side.  Cullen moved up to the head of the beast to try and reason with the clearly frightened elf. 

As he neared the front of Midnight’s body, the stallion twisted his head sharply and bit at Cullen’s cloak.  The horse grunted as he shook his head, jostling the warrior and drawing his attention.

He was able to free himself from the grip of the horse’s mouth just in time to see Ciara jogging off toward her cabin.

Becoming aggravated at the situation, Cullen strode up to Cassandra as she wiped her filthy neck with a wet cloth.

“What in the Fade happened out there?  Varric is injured, you all are exhausted, and the Herald won’t even look me in the eye or talk to me,” Cullen growled at the woman.

She turned to face him, fire in her eyes.  “Do not blame me for this, Commander!  It was an ambush!  We were able to kill all of the bandits, but Varric took a blade to the shoulder in the process.  Do you think I would wish that on anyone in my care?” 

Her narrowed eyes enticed him to rethink his tone.  “I did not mean to suggest that you were responsible for this.  But that doesn’t account for the Herald’s state.  What happened to her?  Was she hurt, as well?”

Solas stepped to the other side of Cullen’s bulk.  “Your Herald is unharmed, though not for long, at this rate.”

Twisting his head to address the elf, “And what does that mean, Solas?”

“She has not slept at all in the last two and a half days.  Not since the attack.  She won’t even allow her eyes to close for more than a moment, as she no longer trusts herself.”

Cullen rubbed a hand down his face.  “Speak plainly, mage!  She won’t sleep?  Why not?  Why won’t she talk to me or look me in the eye?”  Cullen stepped into Solas’ space, moving his face within inches of the other man’s.  “I’ll ask once more.  What happened to the Herald?” 

Solas stood his ground, pulling his hands behind his back.  “The _rogue_ Herald cast at least two spells during the assault.  One burned an attacker into ash, and the other seared Varric’s bleeding wound shut.  It would seem that our savior is a mage, after all.  At the very least, she has some magical abilities.”  He then took a step back from the shocked man.  “And she is terrified of herself,” Solas said to Cullen, before turning and slowly walking off to his own room.

Cullen stood frozen in place, watching Solas saunter away.  His mouth had fallen agape and refused to close, just as his eyes were widely fixed open. 

“Now you know why she won’t sleep, why she won’t talk to anyone.  Now you can see why she won’t talk to you.  She’s a mage, and you’re a Templar.”  Cassandra said the words with a dying anger in her voice, before pushing past the shocked Commander and heading toward the Chantry.

* * *

 

In her room, Ciara threw herself into the chair next to her bed.  The comfortable mattress seemed to call her name, but she ignored it, pulling her knees to her chest, rocking gently.  She looked out of the small window to the darkening sky and shook her head.

From the moment she had woken up, relinquished of all memories, she had been bombarded with hit after hit to her psyche.  Ciara was at a breaking point.  She wondered what was going to happen to her next. 

She was going to say herself in jest, “Next week, will I turn into a demon?”  But the joke died on her tongue as her breath ceased for a moment, her eyes going wide.  _By the Creators, I_ could _become corrupted!_

She had refused to let herself sleep since her new talents were discovered.  Not because she had feared becoming possessed, but because she was terrified that she would lash out in her sleep, harming or killing the people who had become her friends.  Now a new fear had taken root in her mind, tipping her ever-closer to the edge of insanity.

Ciara rested her forehead on her knees and willed herself to breathe again.  Her eyes filled once more with tears, and because she had no reason to stop them, allowed them to slide down her cheeks.

A knock sounded at her door, causing the woman to jerk her head up at the sound.  She didn’t reply, hoping the visitor would believe she was asleep and move on.  Another knock came, and Ciara realized she had not locked the door.  She stood to fix the door shut as it opened, revealing Cullen in the doorway.

Ciara turned quickly, walking to the side of her bed, as far from the open door as possible.  “Go away, Commander!”  She waved a dismissive hand behind her.  She heard the door shut, and she wiped her hand across her wet face.

“Solas told me what happened.”  A deep voice sounded in the quiet space, causing Ciara to jump.

She refused to turn to him.  “What are you doing here?  There’s nothing you can do, just go away.”

She sounded so defeated in Cullen’s ears that it saddened the battle-hardened man.

“I am… That is, I _was_ a Templar.  Do you think you’re the first person I’ve met who struggled with their magic?”  He tried to sound soothing, feeling as if a single loud noise might blow her away.

All Ciara could do was scoff, and shake her head.

Cullen continued to try and reach out to her.  “You finding out you have magical abilities doesn’t change the fact that we need you.  We cannot do this without you, Herald.”

Anger filled her senses and she spun at him, sneering violently, “I told you to go a-”

Suddenly, her lungs felt deflated, as a huge invisible force pressed down on her, forcing her to stumble forward.  Pain spread from the center of her chest and outward toward her extremities.  Cullen’s hands dug into her upper arms as she fell forward, breathless.

Immediately, Cullen felt shame at his knee-jerk reaction.  His Templar training enabled him to feel the subtle pull on the Fade as Ciara inadvertently began to cast a spell in his direction.  His instincts kicked in, and he instantly cast a smite at her, causing her frightening reaction. 

He had come to her room to try and calm her.  Instead, he had hurt her.

Ciara gripped the fur on his pauldrons as her legs slowly regained the strength to stand.  “What… what did you do to me?”  Her voice rasped from her throat.  She still could not take a full breath, and was panting shallowly.

“I am so sorry, Herald.  You were casting a spell and I reacted.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.  Please, I’m sorry.”  His eyes were screwed shut, a deep frown line was burrowed into his brow as he hung his head.  He kept his firm grasp on Ciara as she struggled to stand.

Ciara pressed her forehead to his plate chest piece, and began to cry. 

Soon, sobs wracked her body as she shuddered under Cullen’s hands.  Unsure of what to do, he slowly released her arms, moving his hands to her back, pressing her frail body to his. 

Cullen kept his head hung low, eyes shut, as he served as an anchor for Ciara to lean against, crying out against all the injustice that had been pushed upon her.

After several minutes of hearing her heartbreaking sobs, Cullen was relieved to feel her body begin to still.  Her crying had reduced to a quiet whimper into his chest. 

He removed one of his hands, carefully testing if she could be supported with the other.  He slipped his hand into a pocket, producing a relatively clean rag, and he gently pushed it into her hand that was still clenched in his furs.

Slowly, she took the cloth and brought it to her face, wiping the tears and mucous from her face.  She pulled her head from his chest slightly.  “I’m sorry, I got you wet.”  She whispered to him as she used the rag to dry his breastplate.

His mass shuddered slightly as he released a deep chuckle.  “I think I can forgive you for tarnishing my armor, but only this once.”  The frown he had kept on his face had vanished with her silly comment, replaced with a small smile.  His gloved hand returned to her back, rubbing her shoulders in reassurance.

Ciara chuckled quietly, returning her forehead to his chest.  “You think you’re so funny, don’t you Cullen?”

His roaming hand stilled a moment before continuing to press into her shoulders and back gently.  _She called me “Cullen”.  She’s never used my name before._

“You need to sleep, Herald.  We can help you learn to control your abilities, but if you’re exhausted, that is when you will make mistakes.”  He was murmuring to the top of her head.

Ciara groaned into the metal.  “I can’t!  I don’t want to wake up to find my cabin, or worse, Haven burning to the ground because I had a bad dream.”  She sighed against him.  “I don’t want to become possessed while I sleep.”

Her words caused Cullen to still again, momentarily.  He was amazed that she was more afraid of hurting others than herself.  Then he thought that she had given him no cause to think that she would place herself above anyone else.

Quietly, he thought for a moment longer before he pulled her body from his, stepping to her side.  He reached down, hooked an arm behind her knees and swiftly picked her up, into his arms.

Her eyes were open widely.  “What are you doing, Cullen?!”

“Making sure you get some rest.”  He stepped to her bed and bent his upper body down, allowing her to reach the bed with her hand.  “Pull the covers down.”

She didn’t move at first, shocked that he was doing this to her.  Then she reached down and pulled the corner of her blanket down.  Cullen laid her down, before moving to the foot of her bed. 

All she could do was stare at him as he pulled one of her feet into the air, beginning to unlace her boots.  “You know, I can take off my own shoes, Cullen.”  Each time she said his name, she felt more confident using it.

He chuckled, slightly.  “Right now, I’m not sure you could do much of anything.  You were kind enough to me several days ago.  Please allow me to return the favor.”  He slid the unlaced boot from her aching foot before laying it on the bed and picking up her other leg.

After the remaining leg was freed from its boot, Cullen lowered it to her other leg before placing the boot on the floor, and pulling the blanket over her still-clothed body.  He then turned and began stacking wood in her small fireplace, lighting the kindling with the flint and steel on the mantle.

As exhausted as Ciara was, she continued to stare at the heavily armored man.  She understood why he had hurt her, knowing he was upset at doing so.  “I forgive you.”  She spoke to his back as he tended the fire.  “For doing whatever you did earlier that hurt me, I forgive you.”

A golden eye appeared over his shoulder, peeking at her.  “Thank you, milady.  I’m glad.  Especially since if you didn’t, it would make this night increasingly uncomfortable.”  He stood, facing her as he looked down at her prone body.

She frowned at him.  “What do you mean?  Why would it get more uncomfortable than it already is?”  She chuckled at him, uneasily.

“Because…”  He sat down in the chair by her bed, heavily.  “I’m going to stay the night, and make sure you can sleep peacefully without burning down the town.” 

“You’re… what?!”  She lifted her body to rest on her elbows.  “You’re going to sit in that chair all night and… watch me sleep?”  Her eyebrow lifted, sharply.

He began removing his gloves, purposefully averting his gaze from her eyes.  “Well, it’s either me, or one of my troops.  I can send one of them, if you’d rather.  I had figured that you would be more comfortable around me.”  He smirked as he leaned back in the chair, attempting to get cozy.

“No!”  Her arm shot out at him, her eyes pleading.  “That is, I don’t want a stranger watching me sleep, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Of course, milady.”  He smiled softly in her direction, looking anywhere but her eyes.

A long stretch of silence reigned as Ciara settled back into her bed, turning from Cullen.  She hoped that she could block out his presence, but his smell filled the air, distracting her from sleep.  She couldn’t help feeling guilty that the caring man would be forced to remain awake while she slept. 

Sighing heavily, she rolled over to face him, startled slightly, since his eyes were locked on hers as she turned.  She asked him playfully, “Are you going to watch me all night?”

Cullen turned his face away, but not before Ciara saw the blush creep along his cheeks.

“I hadn’t planned on it.  I was going to watch you until you fell asleep, then try to get some rest, myself.  My training will wake me if something happens.”  He assured her, as a worrisome look passed over her features.

“So, you are going to sleep sometime tonight?”  She cocked an eyebrow.

“That was the plan, yes.”

She sat up, suddenly, pulling the covers down on the opposite side of the bed.  “Well then, this _shemlen_ bed is certainly large enough to share.  If you are doing me the favor of watching me sleep, the least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable in the process.”  She looked at him with a daring smirk on her face.

His eyes widened at her statement.  “Uh… I, uh… I’m not sure that’s wise.  It would certainly be inappropriate.  I’m, ah… I’m fine right here.”  He patted the arm of the chair.

“Nonsense, Cullen.  We’re both fully clothed, even though I’ve already seen you nearly naked.  We won’t even be touching!”  She looked him dead in the eyes and grinned.  “Commander, would you do me the honor of sleeping with me?”

Cullen could not have stopped the furious shade of red that enveloped his face and neck, even if he had the conscious thought to do so.  Her question floored him, completely.  It was obvious that she was teasing him, but he’d never been asked so bold a question by a woman.

Jerkily, he stood and slowly moved around the foot of the bed.  “I’m not comfortable with this,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Don’t worry, you will be, once you lay down… without your armor.”  Ciara pointed at his breastplate.

He looked down, comically.  “My… armor?  You want me to remove my armor?”  His eyes returned to hers, quizzically.

“I don’t recall ever wearing that much metal, but I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable to sleep in.  So, yes, I want you to remove your armor.”  She was feeling empowered by her words. 

Part of her was enjoying playing with the man, while another part sincerely wished that he would be able to sleep well.  She was feeling guilty enough, that she didn’t need to worry about him being in pain the following day.  She faced away from him, giving him privacy, and hopefully courage, to remove the heavy armor.

Telling himself repeatedly that they were both clothed, the bed was rather large, and he did have to sleep, himself, Cullen began tugging at the straps holding his cloak to his back.  Removing the fur-lined cloak, he tossed it across the foot of the bed.  Awkwardly shifting his feet, he removed the remaining armor and setting it, piece by piece, on the floor next to the bed.

He silently stood for a moment, wondering how he had found himself in this situation.  Relenting, he climbed into the bed, staying as close to the side as possible.  He turned, facing her, and tried to regain some calm, reminding himself that he had a job to do.

Feeling the bed dip with his weight, Ciara was glad she was faced away from him as she smiled.  As she felt the movement settle, she turned around, facing him.  She nearly laughed at the clear unease on his face.  She managed to maintain a gentle smile, as she closed her eyes.  “Thank you, Cullen.” 

His distress eased away as he focused on her breathing.  He thought she must have been more exhausted than she let on, as her breath deepened, and a soft snore began to sound from her lips.  Within moments of her thanks, she was asleep.

Cullen was relieved when she fell asleep.  He felt no tugs at the Fade, which could indicate she was struggling to control her new abilities.  With the quickness in which she fell asleep, he doubted she would dream that night.

He forced his tense muscles to relax against the soft bed, realizing that it had been years since he’d slept in a proper bed.  He had always preferred to bunk with his men, sleeping on the same cots that his soldiers slept on.

Looking at the peaceful face of the woman across the bed from him, he grinned to himself.  He reminded himself to give her the necklace in the morning.  He felt more certain than ever that she was going to need Andraste’s protection. 

 _She’s a mage._   The recurring thought kept creeping into his mind.  The last time he had become attached to a mage, it had not ended well, at all.  Despite his best efforts, Cullen’s mind wandered to the last woman he had ever given his heart to.  Images of her filled his head as he closed his eyes, unable to fight the pull of the Fade as he drifted to sleep.


	12. Fever Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has a nightmare and Ciara intercedes. Things get a little too heavy in the bedroom for Ciara. Jealous Solas is jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TY Crystalline and DeviantRhapsode for the insanely quick beta reading! I love that you love it! You do you, girls!
> 
> Another shout-out to Crystalline's piece "Bridging the Divide". With her permission, I've bumped her story with mine... further bumps in the future...
> 
> You should check out her story, it's amazing!
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3589317

Ciara was awoken to the weight in the bed shifting continuously.  She looked at the bulk across the bed from her, and saw Cullen shaking vigorously.  His face was covered in sweat, and his brow was deeply furrowed.  His head shook side to side as he murmured, unintelligibly.

It was obvious that whatever he was dreaming of in the Fade, it was not pleasant.

Not wanting to startle him awake, Ciara carefully shifted closer to the writhing man.  In his tantrum, Cullen’s shirt had worked loose from the waistband of his pants, riding halfway up his stomach.

Not knowing what to do, Ciara slipped a slender hand to his stomach.  Cullen’s skin was fire to her touch, and he was slick with sweat.  She felt the tense muscles of his abdomen clench and release as he seemingly did not notice her.

She slowly slid her marked hand under his shirt to rest at the center of his chest, gently pressing into the area above his thundering heart.  She felt the edge of a small chain on his chest, but she did not want to risk moving further to investigate.

To her amazement, the agonizing throes began to settle, and his rapid breathing became slower, though still shuddering.  His eyes remained shut as he stilled. 

Afraid to move away, Ciara rested her head next to Cullen’s shoulder.  She was too tired to keep her eyes open after her adrenaline drained from her, and she fell asleep.  Her hand silently began to glow in a gentle rhythm, still resting in the center of Cullen’s chest.

* * *

 

Ciara stood in the center of a small stone room, and looked around.  There was an open door in front of her, appearing to lead out into a hallway beyond. 

She felt a cool liquid squish between her bare toes and looked down.  She jumped back in terror, trailing the darkening blood that she had been stepping in with her.  In the center of the pool of blood, a naked man was crumpled to the floor.  The blood Ciara stepped in seemed to be coming from his nose and mouth.  His eyes were open, but rolled back in his head.  His mouth was agape in a silent scream.

Ciara tried scrubbing the congealing blood against the stone floor beneath her when she heard a whimper to her left.  Her eyes shot to the source of the noise to find a man facing her, head bowed as he kneeled. 

He was surrounded by a faint rosy barrier, and he seemed to tremble violently.  The man was wearing plate armor, the symbol of the Templar Order boldly emblazoned on his back.  Between whimpers, the man was mumbling something that could have been a prayer.

“Hello?  Are you alright?”  Ciara stepped forward slowly, reaching out to the kneeling man.

He jumped back on his heels, propelling himself backward as his face rose to meet hers.

Ciara stood in shock as she took in the features of his curly blonde hair, the matching golden eyes.  _Cullen._

“No, not her.  Why must you continue to torment me, so?  Was it not enough that you would use Valaina to defile me, now you embody _her_?  Well it won’t work!  I will remain strong!  You will _not_ have me!”  He said with venom in his voice, staring directly at her.

No, it was not Cullen.  Not as she knew him, at least.  Instead of the fine stubble that covered his cheeks and jaw, this man had a tidy goatee, set on an otherwise finely shaved face.  His hair was cut short, tight golden curls crowning his head.  His lips.  The scar on his upper lip that drew her attention every time she looked at him was strangely absent.  His brow was free of the fine lines his seemingly permanent frown had etched. 

He looked so _young… and terrified._

“Cullen?  It’s me, Ciara.  Do you remember me?”  She placed a tentative hand on the barrier between them, feeling the low, electronic pulse beneath her fingertips.

Cullen stepped back once more.  “I know who you pretend to be, demon!  I am no longer fooled by your tricks.  I was too weak to see that it was not Valaina, but I now know who you really are.  Be gone!  Leave me!”  He squeezed his eyes shut, and wrapping his arms around his armored chest.

Confused, Ciara glanced around to try and make sense of the scene.  In the bubble with Cullen, several other Templars lay, presumably dead.  There was a stone staircase next to her that led upward, a heavy door shut at the top.  She thought she could hear battle beyond the closed door, but it was so faint, she was uncertain. 

Remembering Cullen’s adverse reaction to the very mention of mages, Ciara wondered if she was dreaming.  Maybe her overactive imagination was making up something to justify his distrust.

Her eyes returned to Cullen’s as he began to speak once more.

“Why are you still here?  That’s always worked before!”  He fell to his knees, hands clasped under his bowed chin.  He rocked back and forth, murmuring a prayer to his Maker and Andraste.

Ciara knelt in front of the penitent man, pressing her hands to the barrier.  “I’m not a demon, Cullen.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’m going to stay with you, however long it takes for you to believe me!”

The man’s shoulders began to shake as tears fell to the dusty stone floor.  As he cried, Ciara wondered if he shed tears out of fear, or for this “Valaina” person. 

Rage shot through her.   _How dare anyone make this gentle man this sad and defeated!_ She felt like drawing a dagger and slicing the throat of the offending person.  She wanted to rush through the barrier and hold him as he heaved with sobs, running her hands through those blonde curls.

Reigning in her emotions, she sat on the floor, her back pressed to the stone wall.  She brought her legs to her chest, and rested her forehead on her knees.  She allowed Cullen the privacy to cry, while keeping a hand against the sizzling barrier.

It took several minutes, but Cullen seemed to cry himself out.  Ciara raised her head to see him looking at her, questioningly.  She gave him a gentle smile, but otherwise, did not move.

After staring a few moments longer, Cullen’s shoulders slouched heavily, and he crawled to the wall she leaned against.  He turned around and sat on the floor, his armor clanking noisily.  He shared the wall with her for support, even if he was several feet away from her.

“It won’t matter for much longer.  The Warden is up there killing the rest of your kind.  Soon, they’ll come for you, and you’ll be no more.”  He chuckled darkly.

She continued to look at him and spoke quietly.  “When they come back downstairs, you’ll see that I’m not the demon you think I am.  I’m Ciara, Cullen.  I’m not going to harm you.”

“Of course you will, they always do.”  His head fell back to the wall, his eyes closed.

Ciara put her head back on her knees, never losing contact with the barrier.

* * *

 

After a long time, the barrier shifted, snapping softly under her touch.

Ciara lifted her head quickly, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Cullen had done the same.

The barrier flickered several times before fading away, her hand falling forward with nothing to support it.

She looked at Cullen with a smile, but quickly began to frown as he looked scared, once more.

“Don’t worry, Cullen.  I’m guessing the people you were talking about were able to kill the demons upstairs.  And if not, I’ll protect you.” 

She reached her empty hand out to him, but he pushed himself away from it.  It seemed the new look of terror on his face was directed at her.

Ciara immediately pulled her hand back.  “It’s okay, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.  We’ll just sit here and wait for the Warden.  He’ll know if I’m a demon right away, and if I am, he’ll kill me.”

Folding his arms on his bent knees, Cullen glanced to the top of the stairs.  She felt certain that he would have bolted from the small room, if she hadn’t been between him and the doorway.

After a few more moments of silence, Cullen finally spoke.  “What are you doing here, anyway?  Usually, Valaina is here, tempting me.  The demons have never used you against me.”

Suddenly Ciara understood.  Somehow, she was in _his_ dream!  These must have been the horrible images he was having that woke her.

She was still in shock, but realized that she had to take care in this situation.  She did not want to cause Cullen any more agony than he apparently had already endured.

She carefully thought before she spoke to him.  “I’m not a demon, Cullen.  I’m not here.  This is a dream.  You must have dreamt of me to help you through this.  I’m honored.”  She smiled widely at him, trying to calm him with words she had just used on him when he was awake.

He scoffed at her.  “If I have had the ability to _wish_ someone into my nightmares, to end this ceaseless misery, don’t you think I would have done it sometime in the last ten years?”

Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open.  She could not begin to fathom having the same nightmares for years! 

She attempted to recover with a shrug.  “Well, maybe you just needed the right person to save you.”

“Hmph!”  Cullen responded, curtly.

Another silence stretched, before Cullen made an impatient sound and spoke, looking at the closed door.  “Usually, the dream ends by now.”  He frowned, deeply.

“Well, I haven’t disappeared, and you haven’t woken.  Care to put a little faith in yourself, now?”  She said it in her casual, teasing tone.  She hoped if she acted normal, he would be more inclined to trust her.

Ciara clamored to her feet, dusting her butt and back from the dirt on the floor.  She turned toward Cullen and extended a hand.  “C’mon Cullen, let me get you out of here, this place isn’t your style.”  She chuckled at him.

He sat, frozen, his wide eyes regarding her cautiously.  Slowly, he raised his hand to hers and gripped it, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

“Now then, that’s a start.  I can’t guarantee I’ll show up in every nightmare you have, but when I am here, I’ll try to help you if I can.”  She released his hand, but stepped closer to him, looking up, into his golden eyes.  “For now, I think you need to wake up.”

* * *

 

Her mark had ceased glowing as Cullen woke.

Cullen’s aching eyes eased open, scanning the darkened cabin.  Only the smoldering fire cast a soft glow across the room.  For a moment, he forgot where he was, before turning his head and coming within an inch of Ciara’s sleeping face. 

He was about to jump when he realized there was a small pressure on his chest.  Glancing down the elf’s body, Cullen followed the line of her cheek to her long neck, down her shoulder and arm, and up to her small hand resting in the center of his body.

He involuntarily shivered under her chilled hand, waking the small woman.

“Hey Cullen, sorry, but you were dreaming.”  Sleepy eyes lifted to his as she drawled at him. 

She lifted her hand and arm from his torso, instantly making Cullen miss her delicate touch.  He internally cursed his body as he hardened slightly, making him blush.

She slowly rolled away from him, facing the room.  “I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry,” she murmured, the end of her apology slowly drifting off into silence.

Cullen gently rolled to his side, staring at her slender frame as she began to breathe deeply.  Finding himself wide awake after the intimate encounter, he screwed his eyes shut tightly, repeating the Chant of Light in his head to calm his aroused body.

Minutes passed as his semi-hard cock slowly softened, allowing Cullen to relax and open his eyes.

He narrowed his gaze at the small body in front of him, seeing it begin to twitch, repeatedly.  He raised his body onto an elbow, watching the woman as she seemed to fall into her own dream.

Ciara’s body began to shudder more violently, as quiet whimpers slipped from her lips.  Moans and low murmurs escaped her mouth as her legs began kicking at invisible obstacles, her hands clenching and releasing.

He worried that she was having a bad dream, herself, and that she might inadvertently cast a spell to protect herself.  Cullen eased his body behind hers, the chain around his neck quietly jangling, as he barely touched her back with his chest.  He tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked, forcing him to pull his hand away.

Ciara moaned loudly, a deep frown appearing on her recently peaceful face.  Not willing to wait any longer, he placed a large, hot hand on her belly, gently pulling her to his chest.

She gasped, her eyes instantly going wide in panic.  She grabbed the restraining hand and tried to pull it off of her, wiggling under his touch.

“It’s alright, Herald.  It’s me, it’s Cullen.  You were having a bad dream, so I had to wake you.”  He refused to let her bolt, as she was still shaking.

She slowly stilled, and then sagged back against his chest, laughing darkly.  “Is it my turn to wake you from your dream, now?”

“Maker, I hope not.”  Cullen chuckled, loosening his grip, but not moving his hand away.  “Care to tell me what yours was about?”  He gently dropped his upper body to the bed.  He slid his empty arm above their heads, and rested his head on his shoulder.  The ends of her hair tickled his face, and he tried to gently blow them away.

She sensed how close he was behind her, and lifted her head, pulling the mass of dark red hair underneath her, away from his face.  Lowering her head back to the pillow, she sighed deeply.  “I saw Varric bleeding out under my hands.  I tried to cast a small fire into the wound to save his life like I did before, but the flame was too much.  It covered his body and I watched as he burned to death, screaming.”

Cullen winced and shut his eyes.  “I’m so sorry.  I hope you know that I won’t let that happen, not if I can help it.”  He playfully poked her slightly soft belly, causing her to giggle.  “Do you believe me?” he asked gently to the back of her head.

A gentle sigh reached his ears from over her shoulder.  “Yes, Cullen.  I believe you.”

“Good.  Now, we’re going to have a trying day tomorrow.  You need to get some decent sleep.”  He made to remove his hand from her stomach, but Ciara grabbed his hand in hers, twining their fingers together.  Cullen forgot to breathe.

“Don’t.  I’ll sleep better if you stay.”

He wanted to say that he was not going to leave, that he was merely returning to his side of the bed, but the words were too hard to form in his blank mind. 

Unable to force his mouth to speak, Cullen relaxed his arm.  He did not grip her hand, but allowed her to hold his.  He did not hold her to him, but allowed her to hold his arm to her.

Soon enough, the soft grip on his arm relaxed further, as her breathing deepened once more.  A small snore sounded from her lips as her body relaxed against his.

Cullen felt trapped by the small woman.  He desperately wanted to move from her body, his own again traitorously responding despite his mental efforts to stop it.  He tried to gently untangle his fingers from hers, while pulling his arm away. 

Ciara’s breath stuttered, and she gripped onto his arm like a lifeline, her body shimmying closer against his, eliciting an inner groan from Cullen.  As she snuggled further into his warm embrace, her butt pressed against his hardening cock, causing Cullen to quietly gasp as he pulled his own hips backward.

As if to torment him further, she rolled toward him, onto her back.  The side of her hip pressed against his now solid cock.  Cullen tried to move away further, but she had rolled onto his loose shirt, effectively holding him in place. 

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breath steadily, reciting canticles of the Chant in his head.  He reopened his eyes, startled to find himself staring directly into Ciara’s open green-eyed gaze.

She opened her mouth a little, breathing shallowly, but did not turn from his gaze.  When he tried to retrieve his hand this time, Ciara allowed him to slip from her grasp. 

He couldn’t force himself to move away from her, though.  He raised his hand to her brow, lifting an errant strand of red hair from her face, and placed it behind her long ear. 

His hand seemed to move on its own accord, returning to her face and cupping her blushing cheek.  His face was mere inches from hers, unable or unwilling to move away.

Neither moved in the slightest, both feeling the other breathe, while staring into their eyes.

Suddenly, Ciara’s eyes shot wide, before turning from Cullen’s intense stare.  She clamored from the warmth of the bed, retrieving her boots.  She halted for a moment, looking back at the shocked man that was staring at her.  Without taking the time to throw on her boots, Ciara bolted out of the door and into the night.

* * *

 

From the across the small village square, Solas stood under the awning of his cabin, staring at the closed door to Ciara’s room. 

He had stood there for hours.  Ever since Commander Cullen had stepped into the cabin, never returning. 

Jumping to conclusions, the mage began to boil.  He worried for Ciara.  She had been so withdrawn during the trip back, and now she was allowing the man to spend the night with her.  He trembled slightly, unsure if from the cold, or the rage at the human as he began to imagine Cullen’s body thrusting into hers, defiling her.

At that mental image, Solas jerked forward, stalking toward her room.  He tried to come up with some excuse to be knocking at her door in the late night hour, but his mind remained blank, save for the incessant urge to kick her door down and drag the man out by his blonde hair.

As he walked past the tavern in the center of the square, Ciara’s door burst open.  Solas shot behind a nearby corner, keeping an eye on the hut as Ciara ran from the room, holding her boots as she ran barefoot in the freshly fallen snow.  Cullen appeared in the doorway, dressed only in his loosened shirt and pants.  He looked in the direction that Ciara had run before cursing under his breath and returning to the dark of the room interior.

Ignoring the warrior for now, Solas swiftly moved around the other side of the tavern before running after the fleeing woman.

Following her trail, he raced after her, bare feet silently flying over the road, toward the frozen lake.  Fear gripped his mind, as he hoped he would reach her before she did anything drastic.  Following her footprints to the edge of the lake, Solas could see her standing still at the end of the dock.

He eased into a walk, forcing his heaving lungs to calm as he edged closer to the panting woman.  “Da’len, are you alright?”  She spun to look at him, shock and dismay fighting for dominance on her face.  “I saw you run from your cabin and the Commander standing in the doorway.” 

He reached out and quickly gripped her wrist before she should shrink away.  “Did he hurt you?”  His blue eyes pierced into hers.

She chuckled once, breathlessly.  “Cullen?  Hurt me?”  She looked down at his strong hand on hers.  “Well yes, he did, once.”  His grip tightened as the frown on his face deepened, making her speak quicker.  “But it was unintentional, and I forgave him.  No, other than that moment, he hasn’t hurt me.  It is me.  I’m afraid of hurting him, of hurting all of you!”  She yanked her hand from his and turned back to the expansive lake.

She hung her head and murmured, Solas thought more to herself than him.  “I’m a monster.”

The fury eased away at her comment.  Solas stepped to her side, refraining from touching her again as he spoke softly.  “No, da’len.  You are no monster.  I know of monsters, and you are not one.”  He stared sideways at her, watching silent tears streak down her face.

Armored boots thudded quickly on the dock behind them and Solas turned to see Cullen jogging up to them, fear in his eyes.  The man had redressed, except for this lion mane cloak, which he held in his hands.  He looked at Solas and nodded once, before returning his gaze to Ciara’s back.

Solas watched Cullen carefully as he placed the heavy red cloak on Ciara’s shoulders, judging her jumpy response.  As soon as the fabric was settled, Solas pushed himself between Cullen and Ciara.  “Thank you for the use of your cloak, Commander, I will take care of her now.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at the mage.  “I’m not going to leave her like this, regardless if you feel that you could take better care of her.”  His voice lowered, threateningly.

“Do you wish to remain so that you might harm her again?”  Solas gauged Cullen’s shamed reaction, as the man screwed his eyes shut, dropping his head.

Solas felt Ciara shift behind him.  “I’m right here, you know.”  A hand found his shoulder, squeezing roughly, as she stepped around him.  “I already told you it was an accident.  I recall also saying that I’d forgiven him, which I have.  I don’t need you to protect me Solas, not from the Commander.”  She looked up at the blonde man with a weak smile.

The elf placed a hand on Ciara’s small waist, drawing her attention.  He remained still, staring into her eyes for a few moments before releasing her.  “Commander Cullen, would you remain with the Herald for a short time while I procure some needed items?”  He shifted his gaze to the slightly taller man.

Cullen stood tall, seemingly relieved that he’d been given a task during this awkward encounter.  “Of course, Solas.  May I help you, at all?”

“You may help by staying with Ciara.  I will be a while, but will return as soon as I can.”  Solas turned to Ciara, raising a long hand to cup her cheek as he stared into her eyes deeply.  “Stay here, Da’len, I’ll be back.  Will you be alright?” 

She looked slightly shocked at the sudden intensity of his gaze.  “Of course, Hahren.  I’ll be fine.”

He smiled at the title she addressed him with, before releasing her and jogging back up the path, toward the village.

* * *

 

Ciara turned to the lake again, hugging Cullen’s cloak tightly to her rapidly chilling body.  “When did it start snowing?”

“Sometime during the night, it would seem.  The sky is clear now, though.”  Cullen stepped closer to the woman’s turned back.  “Look, Herald, I wa-“

She suddenly turned to face him, her face tilted back to look him in the eye, sternly.  “Ciara, Cullen.  My name is Ciara.  I understand if you can’t call me by my first name in public, but we’re alone.  When we’re alone, can you please just call me Ciara?”  Her gaze softened by the end of her short rant, her green eyes pleading with him.

“I… I’ll try… Ciara.”  He relented, lowering his voice at her name, as if it were a secret between only them.  Her name on his tongue tasted as sweet as an Orlesian candy, and he knew it would appear just as rarely.  Soldiers did not dine on elegant sweets frequently, after all.

She smiled shyly at him, averting her gaze.  “Thank you.”  Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

He tried again.  “Look… Ciara… I’m sorry for my inappropriate actions.  It’s been a long time since I’ve been this close to anyone, let alone a woman.  I feel as though I’ve been foolishly reckless.  I didn’t mean to upset you or send you running out here in the snow.”  His eyes now turned pleading, to hers.

“Oh Cullen, it was nothing you did.  I know we had a rough start, but I’m thoroughly enjoying your company, now.  There was nothing we did in my room that made me uneasy.  I sleep close to Varric and Solas all the time, when we’re out in the field.”  She tried to sound reassuring to him.

He turned his body slightly, looking up to the star-filled sky.  “Well then, why _did_ you run?”

The elf heavily sighed as she kicked snow from a small area on the dock, lowering her body to sit at its edge.  “Again, it was nothing you did.  It was me.  I was afraid that I would distract you, allowing me to randomly cast some spell, hurting you or someone else.”

It was his turn to sigh as he followed her lead, shoving snow with the toe of his armored boot, before seating himself next to her.  “Don’t worry, Hera-  I mean, Ciara.  We will figure this out.”  He was silent for a moment.  “Maybe we should bring the mages into the Inquisition.  At least then you will have plenty of experienced mages to help you deal with your new abilities.”

Ciara sat with her mouth open, shocked at his thoughts.  “Please tell me that you don’t want to bring the mages simply for one elf to have some tutors.” 

He turned to her sharply, close enough to her to see the reflection of the stars in her eyes.  “You are not simply _one elf_ , Ciara.  You are the Herald.  We need you.  I need you.” The bare honesty in his words shocked him, and he cleared his throat, facing forward again.

A soft breeze blew across the frozen lake, spilling over the pair sitting on the edge of the dock.  Cullen shivered, the exposed plate on his body relinquishing its trapped heat to the frigid air.

Ciara caught the shudder and inched closer to the chilled man.  She tucked her naked feet underneath herself, out of the breeze, as she threw a portion of the cloak over Cullen’s shoulder.  “The Inquisition’s forces are going to go nowhere fast if its Commander is frozen solid.” 

He was relieved to see her back to her teasing self.  He hesitantly slid an arm around her waist, drawing her closer as they both shared what body heat they could.

Many minutes passed as they conversed casually, talking about nothing in particular.  Just as Ciara’s eyes started to drift shut from exhaustion, her sensitive ears heard the sound of horse hooves headed in their direction.

She slid from Cullen’s grasp and stood, allowing his cloak to fall from her shoulders.  She turned to face the three horses coming in their direction, Midnight included.  Solas sat atop his white mare, and he had a third buckskin horse trailing behind.  All three horses seemed to be laden with supplies for a journey.

Solas drew the horse to a stop in front of the couple, tossing Ciara her horse’s reigns.  As Cullen neared, Solas slid from his mare and handed the reigns of the third animal to him.  He rounded his own horse to offer Ciara a hand to mount the tall stallion.

“Are we going somewhere, Solas?”  She ignored the offered hand.

“Yes, da’len.  I was not going to bother you until the morning, but I can sense your temporary closure of the Breach is starting to fail.  We need to get you prepared, trained to use your abilities, if necessary.”  He urged her to accept his help, heaving her into the saddle.  “If you don’t have control of your magic, when you go to seal the Breach permanently, it may very well kill you.”

She took in his words with a shocked expression.  “Fen’Harel take me,” she muttered to herself under her breath.

Solas froze for a moment, staring at the woman.  “Why would you call on the Dread Wolf to take you, when I’m trying to save your life?”

“It’s a common expression, Solas.  Surely you, of all people, know that.  I’m just getting beyond tired of everything landing in my lap.”  She sighed heavily, leaning forward onto the stallion’s withers.

Solas regarded her a moment longer before remounting his horse. 

Cullen still stood next to the buckskin.  “I don’t think it’s wise for the two of you to go off, alone.  What if you are ambushed, again?  Let me at least wake up Cassandra to go with you.”

“That will not be necessary, Commander, as you will be going with us.  Please mount up so we can leave.”  Solas turned his horse away from the warrior.

“I cannot go!”  Cullen argued with the elf’s back.  “I have men to train, strategies to go over.  Our trebuchets are in need of calibrations.  No, I’ll wake the Seeker.”

Solas urged his horse around, again.  “I do not want Seeker Cassandra there, I wish for you to be there, Commander.  Your Templar abilities will be useful in training our fledgling mage.  And if Ciara is being honest, and I believe she is, you will not consciously harm her, which is more than I can say about most Templars.  No, you will come with us.  I’ve already confirmed the plan with Leliana while I was gone.”

Stunned at his words, and sensing that Solas had her best interests in mind, Cullen simply nodded and mounted the gelding.

Solas led the group out of Haven at a trot, becoming a gallop as they raced from the coming sunrise. 

He had a site picked out for her training, away from even the most curious eyes.  He had seen it in the fade, watching ancient lovers hide from their families as they consummated their forbidden relationship.


	13. Val Royeax and The Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since the Herald left in the middle of the night with Solas and Cullen, Cassandra is forced to leave for the Orleasian capital of Val Royeaux without her. As she's preparing to leave, a soldier stops her, letting her know that the mercenary group The Chargers, is interested in working for the Inquisition. Their Chief, The Iron Bull, has sent Cremisius Aclassi to Haven in his stead. While at Val Royeaux, things take an odd turn, and a wily elven archer demands their attentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry that it's taken me so long to post another chapter. I was ill for a while... it's hard to write when you have horrible migraines! :) Anyways... I'm back! And I'm anxious to get this party rolling! Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to my Beta readers for swiftly getting back to me! You guys are awesome!

“What do you mean ‘they’re not here’?”  Cassandra was already distressed with the migraine she had woken up with.  This news had escalated her emotions to infuriated.  She stalked around the war table, glaring at the other two women in the room.

“Just as I have said Cassandra.  Solas woke me before the sun rose to tell me that the Herald, Commander Cullen, and he were going to get her new mage abilities under control.”  Leliana stared back at the angry woman, her shoulders squared against any further assault.  “I approved it because I have seen mages lose control of their abilities, and it is not pretty.  It would be nice if our Herald did _not_ turn into an abomination.”

Cassandra stopped suddenly and leaned over the table, pointing a finger in Leliana’s face.  “We _need_ her to go to Val Royeaux!  What’s left of the leaders of the Chantry are expecting her!  What am I to tell them?”

“We simply tell them that the Herald is indisposed.  As politely as possible, of course.”  Josephine finally spoke up.  Diplomacy being her forte, the woman finally felt confident to voice her opinion between the two opposing forces in front of her.  “Let them believe she’s still out in the field in the Hinterlands, rescuing civilians from rebel mages.  That should satisfy the Chantry.”

“For all of our sakes, I hope you’re right, Josephine.”  Cassandra felt outnumbered and defeated.  “And they didn’t say when they would be coming back?”

“No.  Solas gave no indication of how long the training would take.  Though I’m sure he’s well aware of our current situation.  I believe he will return the Herald and Cullen as soon as possible.” 

Leliana did not want to worry the women with the fact that she had sent spies to follow the group, but they had quickly lost them in the dark of the night.  The spies were still scouring the countryside for any trace of them, to no avail.

Cassandra threw up her hands in defeat before stomping to the door and opening it.  “Well, Maker be with us.  I’ll be taking Balkrinn and that new mage, Dorian, with me to Val Royeaux.  Hopefully, the Templars in the city don’t slaughter us on sight.”  She slammed the door shut behind her.

Leliana and Josephine were left alone in the quiet room, staring at each other. 

Josephine spoke first.  “Are you certain it was wise to let them go at this time?  This meeting is extremely important.”

“I have little doubt that even if the Herald were present for this meeting, things would not go our way.  Could you imagine her losing control of her magic in the middle of the city?  I know the politics of the Chantry far too well.  They would string her up in the town square and hang her.”  Leliana had her head bowed, shaking at the mental image.

The other woman sighed deeply.  “Perhaps you are right, Andraste watch over us all.”

* * *

 

Cassandra stormed down the length of the Chantry, toward the open double doors.  She noticed a young man in armor standing outside, fidgeting side to side, so she strode up to him. 

Trying to sound as pleasant as her aching head would allow, she addressed the man.  “Can I help you?”

“Ah, yes.  Thank you.  I’ve been trying to get someone’s attention, but no one will talk to me.”  He looked nervous, but determined.

Cassandra was quickly losing patience.  “Well, out with it.  I have little time, what do you want?”

The man straightened up significantly, as if preparing a report.  He was seemingly military trained.  “Yes ma’am.  I am Cremisius Aclassi, of the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company.  We’ve heard of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast.  My company Chief, The Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge.  He would like to work out an arrangement with the Inquisition.  He seems to believe that the Chargers would be a great asset to your organization.  If you’d like to see what we can do for you, meet us out on the Storm Coast and watch us work.”

“Mercenaries?  The Inquisition doesn’t need any mercenaries!”  Cassandra began to step away.

A battered Varric, leaning heavily on a crutch, stepped in front of her advance.  “Now just a moment Seeker, I think we should see what these guys have to offer.  I’ve heard of the Chargers.  They’re supposed to be the best.”

“Not supposed to be, sir.  We _are_ the best.  This is the first time Iron Bull has actively gone out of his way to pick a side.  He wants to help.”  Cremisius nodded his head in Varric’s direction.

Cassandra pierced Varric with her glare.  “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, recovering?  What use are you to the Inquisition if you start falling apart?”

“Aw, come now, Seeker.  My comedic relief, alone, is useful enough to keep me around.”  Varric smiled widely up at the woman.

“Ugh!”  Cassandra turned back to Cremisius.  “We have no time to meet your boss, young man.  We are needed in Val Royeaux immediately, and we’re a man down, as it is.”

The man stood at attention with a salute traditionally seen only from Tevinter soldiers.  “Then I offer my services to you on your voyage to Val Royeaux.  After which, if you are pleased with my company, it would be my honor to direct you to my Chief.”

“We could use another fine example of a Tevinter man in our company.  This will allow me the chance to catch up on hometown gossip.”  Dorian said as he and Balkrinn walked their way up to the loud group, the dwarf immediately moving beside Varric to help his wavering stance.

The soldier turned his gaze to the mage.  “Beg your pardon, sir, but I have not lived in Tevinter for some time.”

“Pity” was all Dorian said, as he circled to Varric’s empty side.  “Come now, Master Tethras, you’re going to undo all my exquisite work on that wound of yours!”

Balkrinn piped in.  “Aye, it couldn’t hurt, Seeker.  We need all the help we can get, anyhow.  I’m sure we can find some Inquisition business to deal with in the Storm Coast.  Might as well see what this mercenary group is all about.  Allow me to get this idiot back to his bunk, and grab my war mace.”

For the second time in the early morning, Cassandra threw up her hands in defeat.  “Ugh!  Fine!  Varric, back to bed, that’s an order.  Dorian, Balkrinn, and Cremisius, saddle up for Val Royeaux.  We leave immediately.”

* * *

 

Riding as hard as they dared take their mounts, the group reached the Orlesian capital in less than four full days.  Cassandra had taken careful notes of any open rifts along the way that they would be obligated to return to. 

 _As long as the Herald doesn’t succumb to her new powers, beforehand,_ she thought to herself. 

The only reason she believed the woman would return at all was the fact that Commander Cullen had gone with them.  That man was nothing, if not a soldier.  He would never abandon his troops.  Cassandra was shocked that he had been coaxed to leave for any stretch of time, as it is. 

However, she knew that he was the Senior Templar, even being an ex-Templar, Cullen was the most likely to be of help in the situation.  And with the Herald being their only source of closing the rifts, the best of the best had to be spared to see her succeed.

As they entered the gates to the city, one of Leliana’s scouts ran up to the group.  “I’m glad to see you’ve made it so quickly.  The Chantry Mothers await you, as well as a large group of Templars.”

Cassandra’s brow creased.  “Templars?  Why are they here?”

“The civilians believe the Templars will protect them… from the Inquisition.”

“Are all humans that live in these huge cities as stupid as these?”  Balkrinn frowned as he shook his head side to side.

Dorian nudged the dwarf on the arm.  “No, just the ones who have never seen a battlefield.  So… yes, probably.  I’m glad we didn’t bring Ciara, this probably wouldn’t have ended well for her.”

“For once, you’re likely right.”  Cassandra sighed deeply.  “Enough, let’s see what’s going on here.”

The group strode into the crowded town center.  On a small, raised platform, a woman in Chantry robes stood beside a Templar soldier.  She was seemingly trying to calm the rowdy group as Cassandra stepped forward.

The Chantry Mother noticed Cassandra and glared down at her, before returning her gaze to the crowd.  “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!  Together we mourn our Divine.  Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!  You wonder what will become of her murderer?  Well, wonder no more!  The false prophet was too afraid to show her face, knowing she is responsible for our beloved Divine’s death.  She knows the Maker would send no _elf_ to us in our hour of need.  Here in front of us now stand agents of the Inquisition.”

Cassandra’s face was red with rage.  “Enough!  I will not listen to any more of these self-serving lies!  We came her to talk, nothing more!  The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!”

The Mother pointed to the side of the stage.  “It is already too late.  The Templars have returned to the Chantry and will face this ‘Inquisition’, and the people will be safe, once more!”

A group of Templars walked onto the stage, passing in front of the woman as she spoke.  One of the last Templars to walk by paused, then hit her across the face with his fist.  The shock and pain was so sudden, that she instantly fell to the wooden floor, groaning. 

Another Templar moved to help her, but the leader of their group, which Cassandra recognized, held him back.  “Still yourself, she is beneath us.”

Cassandra walked up to the man.  “Lord Seeker Lucius, it is imperative that we speak with –“

“You will not address me.”  The man said, not even sparing the woman a glance.

She halted immediately, baffled at his venomous words.  “Lord Seeker?”

He turned to face her then.  Cremisius laid a hand on his sword, stepping to Cassandra’s side in preparation of a fight.  Lucius viciously sneered at him before looking Cassandra in the eye.  “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet, you should be ashamed, woman!” 

He turned his sight on the crowd.  “You should _all_ be ashamed!  The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!  You are the ones who have failed.  You who have leashed our righteous swords with doubt and fear!  If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late.  The only destiny that demands respect here, is mine!”

He returned his stare to Cassandra.  “You have nothing! No influence, no power, and certainly no holy purpose!  _I_ will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void.  _We_ deserve recognition, independence!  As representatives of this so called ‘Inquisition’, you have shown me less than nothing.”

Lucius turned toward his troops, away from Cassandra and the rest of her group.  “Templars!  Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection!  We march!”  Rounding up the entirety of his troops, Lucius casually strolled out of the city center, his men marching in order at his side. 

The sight left Cassandra’s mouth agape with shock.  “Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone insane?!”

“Well, I guess we’re not going to be getting any help from the Templars.”  Dorian tried to comfort Cassandra with a hand on her shoulder.

Balkrinn had stepped to the fallen Chantry Mother, rousing her from near unconsciousness.  “If the Chantry had come to us for help instead of those nug-humpers, we could have helped them!  Are you alright, Mother?”  He held her head in his lap as Sisters began swarming the platform.

“You must be pleased with this, Seeker Cassandra.”  The woman stared at her with a quickly swelling eye.

Cassandra kicked the side of the platform.  “We came here simply to talk.  This was not our doing, but yours!”

The Mother shook her head slowly.  “In light of everything, I hope for all of our sakes that I was wrong about your Herald of Andraste.  Maker help us if I’m right, now that the Templars have forsaken us in our time of need.  We have been left defenseless.”

“You may have been wrong, but we will stand by the defenseless.  That is what we do.”  Balkrinn patted the felled woman’s shoulder.

At that moment, an arrow hit the ground next to Cassandra’s feet, causing her to rapidly draw her weapon.  Cremisius quickly followed suit, standing back to back with the woman, searching for the source of the arrow.

Dorian pulled the arrow from the ground, and read the sloppily written note attached to it. 

_People say she’s special.  I want to help, I can bring everyone._

_There is a baddie that wants to hurt you.  Bring swords behind the docks tonight after the sun falls._

_Friends of Red Jenny_

“Apparently, we have a secret admirer.”  Dorian laughed as he handed Cassandra the note.

Reading the scrap of paper, Cassandra sighed.  “It appears as if we will be spending the rest of the evening here.  Dorian, can you tend to the Chantry Mother?  Balkrinn, Cremisius, and I will disperse the crowd.

* * *

 

After the sun fell that evening, Cassandra led the group to the directions on the note.  “Be careful, we do not know what we’re walking into.  Stand prepared for anything.”

No sooner than she finished her warning, several armed men charged the group.  All of the attackers wore elaborate face masks.  It seemed as if they had little military training, as they were quickly dispersed.  A lone survivor ran for his life, apologies stringing behind him in his retreat.

“Let him go, they obviously didn’t know what they were getting themselves into.”  Dorian casually waved at the back of the fleeing man.

Balkrinn chuckled, resting his heavy war hammer on the ground.  “Rich kids playing soldier, no doubt.  Seen many dwarven nobility think that because they were gifted a silver sword, that they were born with the ability to use it.  I took no small amount of pleasure proving otherwise.”

A ball of fire hit the wall behind the group, missing everyone by a large margin.  They spun to face their new attacker and saw a lone man, dressed in elaborate clothing and mask.  Another fireball awaited in his open palm.

He spoke in a thick Orlesian accent.  “That was a warning shot!  I wanted you to look at me when I killed you.” 

He reached back to throw the flame, when an arrow lodged itself in the back of his skull and out of his left eye socket, dropping him dead in an instant.

A small blonde elf shouldered a bow before laughing raucously.  “Pompous prick!  You talk too much!” 

She reached down, pulling the arrow from the dead man’s skull, before shaking off the viscera that clung to it.  After wiping the remaining gore on his fancy clothing, groaning in disgust, the woman returned the arrow to the quiver on her back.

“So, which one of yas is the Herald of Andraste?”  She glanced between the four people.  “Well, she mustn’t be here, as I was told she was a knife ear.  Oh well, you work for her, yah?”

Cassandra sensed the danger was over and sheathed her sword.  “The Herald is preoccupied, and has sent me in her stead.  Are you the person who sent the note?  The ‘Friend of Red Jenny’?”

The woman laughed again.  “I’m _a_ friend of Red Jenny, but there’s lots of us, ya?  So my name’s Sera, and I heard you’re out there to make things back the way they were.  Is that right?  If so, I want in.  Things need to go back to normal, such as they were.”

“If your name is Sera, who is Red Jenny?”  Cremisius piped up.

“Pfft, Red Jenny isn’t a person, and she is.  She’s all of us, and we’re all of her.  I’m a Red Jenny, there’s another Red Jenny in the next town, Denerim has three Red Jennys.  Are we clear?”

Dorian snorted.  “Not in the least.”

Sera waved her hand, dismissively at the mage.  “Let me narrow it for you, ya?  I have people.  People who can help.  I can help.  I want the world to go back to normal.  I want to join ya.  Okay?”

“I think we should let her go and meet with Sister Leliana.  If anyone can figure out this mess, it would be her, aye?”  Balkrinn poked Cassandra’s arm, as the warrior was busy rubbing her face with the palm of her hand in exasperation.

“Fine, but let her be on your head.  Sera, is it?  Head to the Chantry in Haven.  Ask for Sister Leliana and tell her that _Balkrinn_ sent you.”  Cassandra continued to rub her temples.  “Let’s get out of here.  We’re done here, Cremisius.  Let’s go meet your Chief.”

Sera bounced a few times, a wide grin on her freckled face.  “Great!  I’ll meet yas there!”  She sprinted around the corner, and was gone.

* * *

 

After setting out first thing in the morning, it took the group of four a full five days to reach the forward camp of the Storm Coast.  The area was living up to its name, as heavy rain seemed to pour down constantly. 

Riding into camp, Balkrinn was relieved to see Harding waving the group down.  Several scouts stood by, mugs of warmed mead in hand for the weary travelers.

Balkrinn slid from his mount and strode up to the woman, shaking her hand, while graciously accepting the mug.  He spared her a wide grin before downing the contents of the cup in one guzzle.

“Why hello again, La-, ahem, Scout Harding.  Are you staying safe, milady?”

Harding punched him in the arm.  “Don’t tell me you’re going to start fawning over me.  I’ve been taking care of myself long before you entered my life!”

Balkrinn would have taken offense to her words, had the warm smile gracing her face not betrayed her feelings.

“Well, unless Seeker Cassandra is in further need of my services, I shall return to my post at your side, milady.”  Balkrinn gave Harding an exaggerated bow that sent the woman into fits of laughter.

Cassandra responded to the sappy display with a disgusted sound.  “I see no reason to expose myself to this…scene.  Cremisius, would you lead us on to your company’s camp?”

Harding cleared her throat, loudly.  “Oh, are you talking about the mercenaries on the beach?  The ones led by the huge Qunari?  They’ve been battling Venatori agents off and on for the last couple days.  They’re kicking ass, if I do say so, myself.”

Cremisius started at her statement.  “They’re fighting?  I have to go help them!”  He spurred his horse and bolted toward the beach.

 “I guess that’s our cue to follow, Cassandra.”  Dorian had urged his horse to Cassandra’s side, before setting off at a more leisurely pace after the racing man.

Balkrinn placed a hand on Cassandra’s boot to get her attention.  “Should I saddle up again, Seeker?”

She looked down at the man, and could see the barely hidden hope in his eyes.  “No, I think we should be fine without you if Scout Harding believes they’re holding their own.”

“I do.  If I had known the Inquisition was looking to the group as an ally, I would’ve joined them to help, not that they need it.  That one Qunari could probably kill any amount of Venatori that was thrown at him.  He’s truly a mountain!” 

Cassandra nodded at Harding.  “Very well.  Balkrinn, you may return to your post guarding the scouts.”  She turned her horse and dug her heels in, causing the animal to leap into a gallop toward the battle.

* * *

 

As Cassandra flew down the beach, she could see the small battle already in progress.  Cremisius and Dorian had abandoned their horses and flung themselves into the fray.  She could hear the warrior warning his people that the flamboyant mage and the woman on horseback were friendly, so the Chargers would not accidentally injure them. 

At the head of the fight, a truly mountainous man with enormous horns on his head, was laughing loudly as he swung a huge war hammer down on a single enemy. 

The following sound nearly sickened the seasoned warrior, causing Cassandra’s stomach to flip.  The body of the offending person became little more than a mass of blood and tissue, and was unrecognizable after the Qunari’s attack.

Seeing a rogue trying to sneak up on the man to flank him, Cassandra urged her horse forward, drawing her sword.  With one strong swing, she nearly sliced the man in half, sending him crumpling to the ground.

The horned man spun and took in the scene.  He nodded thanks to Cassandra as she dismounted, before turning back to the battle and swinging on the last combatant. 

After turning the last fighter into subsequent mush, the man rested his weapon on the ground and faced his company.  “Chargers, stand down!”  He turned to Cremisius.  “Krem!  Good to see you finally made it back… for the last minute of the fight.” 

“I had to bring someone to save your sorry ass from the rogue about to stab you in it!”  Krem laughed at the man, before clearing his throat to give his report.   “We have five or six wounded, Chief.  No dead.” 

The man walked up to Cassandra, but looked in Krem’s direction.  “That’s what I like to hear!  Let the throat cutters finish up, then break out the casks.” 

He turned his gaze on her.  “So, you’re with the Inquisition, huh?  Glad you could make it.  Grab a seat, drinks are on me.”  He turned and headed for a fallen log, sitting on it.

“You must be Iron Bull.  I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.  I was told you wish to ally with us.”  She followed Bull, but remained standing in front of him.

“Yeah, the horns tend to give me away.  What I ‘wish’ is for the Inquisition to hire us.  We’re not cheap, but we’re worth it.  And I may have some further information that could be useful to your organization.  I assume you’ve become acquainted with my lieutenant, Cremisius Aclassi?”

The young man walked up to the pair.  He looked at Cassandra a moment before turning his sight to Bull.  “Ma’am.  Throat cutters are done, Chief.”

Bull scoffed at Krem.  “Already?  Have them check again.  Don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away, no offense.”

“No offense taken.  At least a bastard knows who his mother was, unlike you Qunari, right Chief?”  Not waiting for a response, Krem walked away toward the rest of the mercenary company.

Ignoring the obviously playful insult, Bull looked back at Cassandra.  “So, you’ve seen us fight, and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

“Impressive, I admit.  But how much is this going to cost me?”

Bull chuckled.  “You personally?  Nothing, unless you want to buy the drinks, later.  Your ambassador, Josephine?  We’d go through her to set up payments.  What’s important is we’re worth it, the money will take care of itself.”

“The Chargers seem like they’d make an excellent addition.”  Cassandra swept her gaze over the battle hardened men and women.

Bull followed her stare, sighing contently.  “They are the best.  But you’re not just getting the boys, you’re getting me.  You need a frontline bodyguard, I’m your man.  The bigger, the better.  Demons, dragons, you name it, I’ll kill it for you.”  He stood and strolled past her.  “There’s another thing that may be useful, as well as piss you off.  Have you heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”

“Qunari spies?”  Cassandra narrowed her gaze at Bull.

“Well informed, I see.  Yeah, that’s them.  Well, that’s me.  I’m Ben-Hassrath.  The Qunari are concerned about the Breach, magic getting out of control and stuff.  I’ve been ordered to infiltrate the Inquisition, get close to the organization’s leaders, and send reports back to the Qun.”  He stared at Cassandra, judging her reaction.  “But I also get reports sent to me from all over Orlais.  If you hire me, you hire my intel, as well.  You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

Cassandra huffed at him.  “You’re a spy, and you just told me?!”

He smiled, heaving a silent chuckle.  “Yeah, well with a name like ‘Inquisition’, I figured it’d be best to come clean now, rather than you find out later.  Plus, as I said, I’ll be sharing any important information with your organization.” 

Cassandra thought it over for a moment before responding.  “Any information you send back to the Qun, I want cleared through our spymaster first!  Any information you receive from your sources goes directly to her, as well.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!”  He barked a laugh.

She sighed, loudly.  “Very well, then.  You’re hired.  We’ll be leaving for Haven immediately.”

“Excellent!  Krem, pack up the men, the Chargers have just been hired!”

“What about the casks, Chief?  We just opened them up… with axes.”  Krem whined.

“Find some way to seal them!  You’re Tevinter, try blood magic or something.”  Bull retrieved his resting war hammer, effortlessly swinging it into the holder on his broad shoulders.

Cassandra watched as the company expertly broke camp and quickly loaded their waiting mounts.  It took surprisingly little time for the group of twenty-odd men and women to be ready to march.

When everyone was ready, Cassandra mounted her own horse and searched for Dorian.  He was already atop his horse, casually talking to Krem.

She rode up to Bull’s giant warhorse.  “If you’re ready, lets head back to Haven.”

“Understood.”  He turned toward the group. “Chargers!  Move out!”

Cassandra hung back, watching the huge man lead the mercenaries.  She couldn’t help shaking her head and wonder if she had made a mistake. 

Dorian jogged his mount up to hers.  “Well now, this Inquisition gets more interesting with each passing day, doesn’t it?”  He laughed and spurred his horse toward the group.

Grunting in disapproval, Cassandra sighed once more before urging her own horse forward, trailing the group as they made their way to Haven.


	14. Frustrations and Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the past two weeks, Solas has been trying to teach Ciara how to control her new-found powers. After her frustration nearly causes her to lose her self control, there's an accident. There's some hot spring time for the trio before Solas relents to going back to Haven. Before they could leave, however, some strangers appear and all hell breaks loose.
> 
> *Now with art!!!*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TY again to Crystalline and DeviantRhapsode, as well as my hubby Dekannaibsel. Much <3 all around. Sorry it's taking me longer to get these chapters out, once I'm fully recovered, I'm sure they'll speed up again! Thanks to all my readers for their kudos and comments! 
> 
> *There are some Elvish phrases... translations are at the end.

The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains on their second week in the wilderness.

“How much longer are we going to be at this, Solas?”  Ciara knelt in the snow, exhausted.  She was nearing the point of utter frustration and rage, as Solas and Cullen had spent the last two weeks pushing her to her limits, day after day.

Solas offered her a hand to help her to her feet.  “We would likely be finished by now, if you would take lyrium to replenish your magic.  I understand your hesitation, but if you want quick results, there is a price to pay Da’len.”

Groaning loudly, Ciara swatted his hand away, clamoring to her aching feet on her own.  She refused to drink the lyrium after the first draught Solas had practically forced down her throat.  She did not like the way it made her feel:  giddy, hyperactive, and slightly untouchable.  It did not feel natural.

“That is a price she shouldn’t have to pay, if she doesn’t want to, Solas.”  Cullen sat on the rocks behind the elves.

Ciara looked up at the armored man, smiling gently.  “Thank you, Commander.”  She turned back to the mage.  “See, Solas?  Someone believes in me.”

Solas frowned deeply at her.  “Da’len, it is not a matter of not believing in you, I do.”  He turned his back to them and strode away.

Looking over her shoulder at Cullen, Ciara smirked.  “Uh oh, I hurt his feelings.” 

Suddenly, she felt a pull on the Fade, coming from Solas’ direction.  She instinctively threw up a magical shield to protect herself as lightning crackled through the air toward her.  The bolt slammed into her shield, knocking her back a step, but leaving her uninjured.

“Please, Solas.  If you want to try to catch me off guard, you’ll have to try harder.”  She laughed at the elf who was now glowering at her a distance away.  “See?  I’m ready.  How many times do I have to remind you that I won’t be using magic unless absolutely necessary?  Give me my bow, a quiver of arrows, and a pair of daggers, and I’m a happy girl.”

Solas’ frown did not diminish with her words.  If anything, he looked sad to her.  “I do not understand your desire to ignore your innate abilities.  You are a natural.  You should be proud of yourself.”

Cullen jumped down from the rocks behind her.  “He does have a point, Herald.  You have accomplished more in the last couple of weeks than a Circle mage would have in years of intense training.  If I had seen you doing this in a Circle, I would have suggested to the Grand Enchanter that you take your Harrowing.”

Ciara felt somewhat betrayed by Cullen’s words, and it angered her.  She stood straight and glared into Cullen’s eyes.  “Well then, I guess I’m glad that the Circles all fell!”  She stormed off behind Cullen, and away from both of the men.  She had just enough time as she passed Cullen’s massive frame to see the blatant hurt in his shadowed eyes.

 _Good_ , she thought.  She was done with this incessant training.  She shouted as she walked away.  “It’s obvious to me that I have gained enough mastery over my powers to no longer be a threat to myself or others.  Why can’t you both see it?”  She spun to face the men.

Cullen was still facing away, standing between her and Solas.  Solas’ frown had finally vanished, but was replaced with a look of rage that sent a shudder down Ciara’s spine.  “You have mastered nothing!  You are a petulant child playing with an ill-gotten toy!  I am starting to wonder why I waste my time on you!”

Ciara could feel the rage inside her building with each word that passed Solas’ lips.  Her body felt hot, despite the fresh snow that had fallen the previous night.  Without thinking, she pulled strongly on the Fade, harnessing more energy than she ever had.

Cullen spun to face her, concern painting his face. 

Solas’ face calmed and he raised a hand in her direction as he took a step toward her.

As Ciara’s vision went red, she felt both of her hands raise in the direction of the men, her rage bidding them to do so.  For a moment, she saw fire envelope her fingertips.  Her hands warmed to the point of burning.  She thought she heard Cullen shout “No!” right before everything ceased and her reddened sight instantly turned black.

* * *

 

“Damn it, Solas!  Why did you even bring me here if you were going to counter spell her like that?!”  Cullen ran up to Ciara as she fell to the ground, shaking and unconscious.

He had sensed her losing control, drawing more power than was safe.  When he turned to stop her, he had seen the unbridled rage in her face, directed at the elf behind him. 

He had no choice but to smite her, not knowing that Solas had countered her spell at the same time.  Solas’ spell had pushed against her mind, attempting to shut down a magic that was no longer there, effectively flaying her mind.

He pulled the spasming elf onto his lap, holding as much of her body still as he could.  “Solas, help her!”  The mage was by their sides before Cullen’s plea was finished.  He knelt by her shaking frame, pressing a slender hand to her forehead.

Cullen could hear him speaking elven, as he felt magic rise from the elf.  Looking down at the frail woman in his lap, Cullen felt terrified.  Even with his many years of experience with mages, he had never seen one smited and counter spelled at the same time.

He was surprised how much of his strength it took to hold the seizing elf still.  She seemed so small and frail to him that he underestimated how powerful her long, lean muscles were.

Cullen’s terror waned slightly as Ciara’s body slowly quieted and stilled.  He looked at Solas as the mage continued to recite elven phrases.  “Will she be alright?”

“We need to get her inside.  Her lying in the snow is not going to help her.  Please take her to her tent.”  Solas stood and walked toward the camp without a single glance back.

Cullen picked up the limp woman, tucking her to his chest as he followed the elf at a distance.  Despite his fear for Ciara, Cullen found himself getting angry at Solas.  “You are not worried for her at all, are you?”

Solas spun on the man.  “Do not dare to presume you know my feelings, Shemlen!  Of course I worry for her, but worry will not help her at this point.  Get her into her bedroll.  I will be there, shortly.”  He turned again, heading toward his own tent.

Cullen managed to maneuver Ciara into her bedroll with minimal effort.  He unhooked his cloak from his shoulders and draped the heavy fabric over her still body.  While waiting for Solas to return, he bent down to her head.  Swiping a loose strand of hair from her sweat soaked forehead, he whispered a quiet apology in her pointed ear.

He remained at her side, softly rubbing her arm, until Solas appeared at the entrance of the tent.  He glanced at Cullen’s hand on Ciara’s arm.  “There is not enough room in here for both of us.  Would you mind building up the fire, outside, Commander?”

“Of course.”  Cullen climbed out, turning to face the mage.  “I want to apologize, Solas.  I –“

Solas interrupted him.  “Do not let it worry you, Commander.  I apologize for snapping at you, as well.  After you stoke the fire, you should try to get some rest.  I will take the first watch.”  Cullen hesitated, so Solas tried to reassure him.  “I will wake you if her situation changes, though I firmly believe that she will be fine.”

Cullen took another moment to glance at the sleeping woman before nodding.  “Okay.  Please let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.  Try to rest.  I will wake you for your watch.”

Cullen placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.  “Thank you Solas, for everything.”

He nodded at Cullen and slid into Ciara’s tent, closing the flap behind him.

As darkness descended on the camp, Cullen gathered enough wood to last the night.  Placing enough fuel on the fire for several hours, he released his aching body from the confines of his armor before climbing into his own bedroll. 

The use of the smite had exhausted him.  For the last of many times that day, Cullen craved the lyrium that had given him his abilities.  He knew that one day, he may lose everything he had gained while serving in the Templar Order.

He deeply respected Ciara’s refusal to consume the blue liquid.  It had to be exceedingly difficult for her to have Solas push her to use magic without lyrium.  He owed it to her strength to not succumb and sneak into Solas’ tent to retrieve a bottle for himself.

Sighing deeply, he forced his mind from the intoxicating liquid.  His tired body dragged him to the Fade.  The image of Ciara shaking in his arms was the last thing he saw before he slept.

* * *

 

Ciara’s head throbbed painfully.  It seemed all of her muscles were tensed or torn, and she ached from head to toe.  She opened her eyes to find that she was alone in her tent, warm in her bedroll.

She smelled Cullen’s manly scent and fought a sneeze as her nose tickled.  Looking down at her body, she saw that she was wrapped in Cullen’s deep red cloak.  The fur surrounding the neckline was the culprit to her itching nose.  Her throat was parched, so she gingerly unwrapped herself from her blankets and stepped outside her tent. 

It was dark, save for the roaring fire in the center of the camp.  The mountain air chilled her quickly, and she reached into her tent to retrieve Cullen’s cloak, wrapping it around her slender frame.  She had to bunch the fabric around her waist so the ends would not drag as she stepped to Cullen’s tent.

Peeking in, she could see the man’s mass moving in rhythm with his breathing.  He was snoring softly, apparently sleeping peacefully.  She smiled at him, recalling their last night in Haven together.  She carefully shut the flaps to his tent, so the cold air would not reach him.

Looking around the camp, she did not see Solas.  Pushing her head into his tent, she could see that it was vacant, as well.  She straightened, frowning.  She could not imagine that Solas would wander far from the camp while she and Cullen slept.

Her hunting skills proved useful as she saw a lone set of bare footprints in the snow heading away from camp toward the small, heated stream they had camped near.  Wrapping the cloak around her tighter, Ciara set off in the same direction.

* * *

 

She could see steam rising from the pool of water at the base of the small waterfall, well before she reached the hot spring.  

As she neared, Ciara heard quiet splashing.  Clearing the remaining trees, she could see Solas bathing in the warm water with his back to her.  He had cast veilfire to light the area, casting a soft blue-green glow over the area.  He was submerged from the shoulders down, but the water was clear enough to tell that he was completely naked.

Ciara was not entirely shy about bathing in front of others.  Being on the road with her companions had made her happy for the company and protection of others while she washed.

“May I join you, Solas?”  She asked as she unwrapped the cloak from her shoulders.

Solas jumped a little and twisted to see her.  “Da’len, I am glad to see that you are awake.  Of course, please join me.”  The grin that he sent her caused her to involuntarily shudder as she began to strip the clothing from her body.

She left her breastband and smalls on for modesty, draping her clothing and the cloak over a nearby tree branch.  She gasped as she stepped into the pool.  It was hotter than she anticipated, and her cool feet fought to adjust to the temperature change.

Solas had waded to her, reaching a hand out to help her into the pool. 

Ciara grasped his hand, easing the rest of the way into the water.  It felt so undeniably good that she could not help the loud groan that escaped her lips.

Solas chuckled at her, releasing her hand to move to another side of the pool.  “Yes, I imagine you could use a relaxing bath after the events of today.”

Scooping up hot water to pour over her aching shoulders, Ciara looked at him.  “What did happen?  The last thing I remember was getting pissed at you.  I think I was going to hurl a fireball at you, and then I woke up.”

“That is precisely what you were going to do.  However, with the amount of power you were pouring into the spell, you likely would have killed everything within a mile radius, including the three of us.  Commander Cullen and I acted simultaneously to stop you, unfortunately rendering you unconscious in the process.”  He frowned at her, sorrowfully.  “I apologize.  It was not my intention to harm you, Da’len.”

Ciara stared at him, shocked.  “No wonder my head is killing me.  Is that why my whole body hurts?”

“I’m afraid so.  The shock to your mind caused you to have a seizure.  I believe you will be fine, though you are undoubtedly very sore.”  He reached for her once more.  “Come here, I will help with the headache.”

The pool was deep enough that Ciara had to swim to him. 

He eased her around, facing away from him.  He lightly pressed his hand into the small of her back, urging her to allow her body to float to the water’s surface as he cradled her head.  He gently rubbed her temples, drawing on his healing magic to ease the pain in her head away.

Ciara closed her eyes and let the man move her to his whim.  She felt him move her body through the water slowly, feeling the water lap at her aching muscles. 

Reopening her eyes, she found herself staring into the deep pools of blue that were Solas’ eyes.  The shade of his eyes seemed to change with his mood, and at the moment, they were a dark blue-grey.

He grinned at her, and she replied with a soft smile, continuing to watch his face. 

The warmth of the magic Solas had used on her head began to travel down her jaw and across her neck.  The sensation forced her eyes shut again, and she quietly moaned in pleasure.  She heard him chuckle again, as his magic continued to press into her tense muscles.

“I’m sorry Solas.  I didn’t mean to nearly fry your ass.”  She could barely murmur the words, but felt that they were important to say.

Solas gently cooed at her.  “It is alright Da’len.  I had no right to say the things that I did.  We will head back to Haven in the morning.  Just relax, and allow me to help you.

Fighting sleep, Ciara listened to Solas as he quietly spoke to her in elven.  “Ma isala atishan, da’assan.  Emma na’reth, Lethallan.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Ciara smiled up at Solas.  “Ma serannas, Lethallin.”

* * *

 

Cullen woke with a start from his recurring nightmare.  He was used to being jolted awake, although he did not relish the pang in his lower back as he bolted upright.

He forced his rapid breathing to slow, his raging heart to calm.  When he could no longer hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears, he realized something felt strange. 

He quickly clamored from his tent.  He noticed the small footprints coming from Ciara’s tent that stopped in front of his, before moving on, into the forest. 

Cullen rushed to find both of their tents empty.  He ignored his armor, but retrieved his sword and shield before following the footprints into the woods.

He saw a greenish glow through the trees and readied himself for combat.  He could hear the waterfall as he crept into the clearing.  Taking in the scene, he allowed himself to relax.  Although he was slightly angered that they would leave in the middle of the night without waking him, Cullen was glad to see Ciara smiling, her body lax and drifting in the water by Solas’ hands.

He was surprised at the muscle tone the mage’s upper body possessed, but his eyes drifted to Ciara’s near naked body.  All lean muscle with a perfect amount of softness gracing her curves.  Her wet breastband and smalls did little to cover her modesty.

“Hello Commander, I apologize if our lack of presence startled you.”  Solas was looking directly at Cullen.

Realizing he was staring, Cullen cleared his throat, feeling the stain of a blush creep up his cheeks.  He set his weapon and shield down before rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.  “It would have been nice if I hadn’t awoken to an empty camp.”

“Emma abelas, Commander.  You are right, I should have woken you.”  Solas bowed his head in assent.

Ciara seemed to startle alert.  “Cullen!  Sorry!  I would have woke you, but you seemed to be sleeping nicely.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of my rest, but in the future, please wake me.”  He had noticed, but did not want to point out that she had called him by name.

She moved from Solas’ touch, swimming toward Cullen.  “Come on.  I’m sure you could use a hot bath after today.  Join us.”

Cullen’s eyes widened.  “Bathe with you?  I don’t think that’s appropriate.  I’m…ahem…I’m fine as it is.”

Ciara laughed, loudly.  “I won’t tell if you won’t.  You can leave your smalls on, come on!”  She turned her back to give him privacy to undress.

“You might as well enjoy this evening, Commander.  We are heading back to Haven when the sun rises.”  Solas had retreated to the opposite end of the pool to rifle through a small bag on the bank.

Cullen hesitated a moment before pulling his tunic over his head.  “Are you comfortable with the Herald’s abilities now?”  The necklace he had yet to give to Ciara bounced against his chest.  He pulled it off and tucked it in a fold of his discarded shirt.

Solas regarded Ciara for a moment, as she stared back at him.  “I believe she will be just fine.  I will continue to train her as time permits.”  He grinned and nodded at her.

Cullen could not see the _Thank you_ , Ciara mouthed to Solas.

Shedding his trousers, Cullen nearly leapt into the steaming water, gasping loudly.  He heard Ciara chuckle and looked over to see her desperately trying to hold in a laugh.  “What is so funny?” 

“I just never thought I’d get you into a bath with me!”  She burst out laughing, no longer able to contain herself.

“I could always get right back out!”  He stepped toward the bank he had just came from.

A small hand shot out and gripped his wrist.  “Oh, don’t be a baby, Cullen.  Enjoy yourself!”

He allowed her to drag him deeper into the hot spring.  Glancing at Solas, Cullen noticed he had pulled a piece of soap from his bag, and had begun lathering a piece of cloth. 

Ciara followed his gaze and moved to Solas’ side.  “Oh, that’s a fantastic idea, Hahren.”  She pulled the rag from his grip.  “Turn around, I’ll get your back.  Do you mind that we share?  I didn’t think to bring my soap from camp when I came looking for you.”

“Of course we can share, Lethallan.  We are all in need of cleaning, I am certain.”  Solas reached out to Cullen, handing him the soap.

“Thank you.”  Cullen sheepishly accepted the small white bar.  He sniffed it, smelling orange peel and mint.  He appreciatively rubbed the soap in his hands, gathering the suds in his palm.

He looked at the elves.  Ciara had her back to him, drawing the foamy cloth across Solas’ long back and neck.  He watched the muscles in her own back and shoulders move along with the action her arm was taking.  Remembering the strength she had shown him as she seized in his lap, Cullen stepped behind her and placed his palms on her shoulders.

Ciara squeaked in surprise.  She had jumped slightly, but did not move away from him.  Cullen chuckled at her response, and continued to firmly rub circles into her shoulders and the back of her neck.  He watched as she placed her empty hand on Solas’ shoulder to steady herself, as her head hung limp to her chest.

Solas turned, taking the rag from her and continued to clean his arms and chest.  He was watching Cullen’s hands on Ciara’s back.  “Allow me, Commander.  I can heal some of her torn muscles.”  He pressed the cloth back into her palm.  “Here, Lethallan.  Turn around and help the Commander with his back.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary.”  Cullen stepped back from her, as Ciara turned to face him.  “I’m fine, Herald.  Thank you though.”

She grabbed his wrist again, halting his retreat.  “What did I say about not being a baby, Cullen?”  She gently spun him in the water.

Cullen was about to groan his disapproval, until he felt her small hands land on his shoulders and trace down his back.  His mind wandered to the evening spent in his tent at Haven, when she had nearly lulled him to sleep with her hands.  He closed his eyes, and stilled as she worked her palms over his sore lower back.

He heard her moan behind him, and was grateful that the hot water had turned them all a bright shade of pink so his blush would not show.  Solas must have been doing a good job of healing her sore muscles, as her movements faltered on his back. 

To his shock, he felt her arms snake under his and wrap around his chest, her cheek and chest were pressed against his soapy back.  Cullen realized she was simply holding onto him to keep from slipping under the surface of the water.   He could feel Solas pull on the Fade to aid his ministrations to Ciara’s muscles.

He pressed his eyes shut tightly, as he tried, and failed, to keep his body from responding to the feeling of her breasts pressed against him.  Solas’ pressure against her back was gently rubbing her against him, as her hands were splayed against his chest.

Despite his best efforts, Cullen felt his traitorous body respond as he began to harden underneath the water.  Afraid that if he moved, Ciara would be unable to keep herself above the surface, Cullen stood still.  He swallowed hard, as her body continued to torment his.

After far too long, he heard splashing behind him as Solas cupped handfuls of water and rinsed the soap from Ciara’s back.  The action seemed to wake her from a trance and she quickly released Cullen’s body with a murmured apology. 

As soon as her hands left his body, Cullen knelt in the water up to his neck, acting as if he was simply cleaning himself instead of trying to hide his embarrassment.

“I think it is time to retire.  We have a trying journey ahead of us, sealing the Breach.”  Solas was herding Ciara from the warmth of the pool.

As she stepped from the spring, water dripping down her cleaned body, she turned back to Cullen, who was still neck deep in water.  “Are you coming, Commander?”

“In a few moments.  I’ll meet you back at camp.”  He looked at her, wondering how she could stand in the snow after being in the warmth of the water for so long.  “It is my watch, after all.  I’ll finish bathing and be right there.”

“Okay, then.”  She reached for her clothes, but did not dress.  Ciara pulled Cullen’s cloak from the branch and stepped to the mound of his clothes, carefully placing it on top.  “Thank you for the use of your coat…again.”  She turned and followed Solas down the path toward the camp.

Cullen watched her hips sway as she left, and he groaned inwardly.  It took several minutes for his body to calm down, before he could step from the hot spring.  He shivered from the frigid air, immediately.  He quickly wrapped his cloak around himself, and pulled the chain of the pendant over his head.  He walked down the path after them, his arms laden with filthy clothes and his sword and shield. 

By the time Cullen got back to camp, Solas and Ciara were redressed in clean clothing, and were retiring back to their tents.  They all said their goodnights and left him to dress in his clean change of clothing that Solas had procured before they left Haven.

He quietly dressed in his armor, since he was to be awake the rest of the night.  Cullen stole several glances at Ciara’s tent, while he listened to her quiet snoring for the remaining hours of the evening.

* * *

 

The next morning, the three weary travelers surrounded the dying fire.  Cullen and Ciara held cups of hot tea in their hands, while Solas preferred simple warm water.  They shared some druffalo jerky that Ciara had tucked away in her saddlebags from their last journey.

After their meager breakfast, the trio broke camp, speaking casually amongst themselves.  Solas was quizzing Ciara on magical knowledge he had tried to instill in her over the last two weeks, while she periodically asked Cullen about his experiences within the Circles.

As they were finishing the last of their packing, Cullen heard numerous horse hooves beating the ground, heading in their direction.  He called a warning to Ciara and Solas, while he armed himself.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ciara ready her bow, while Solas had his staff in hand, battle ready. 

As soon as he had drawn his sword, a large group of Templars came into view.  Recognizing the insignia emblazoned on their chests, Cullen allowed himself to relax a little.  He raised his sword in greeting to the group.

The soldiers stopped their horses in front of the three, and the lead horseman spoke at Ciara.  “Are you the Herald of Andraste?”

“I am afraid we do not know of whom you speak.”  Solas placed himself between the Templars and Ciara.

“You do not fool me, apostate.  I know it is her.  We are here to take her into custody, if you try to stop us, we will be forced to kill you.”  He visually judged Solas and his staff, and sneered at him.  “We may just kill you, anyway.” 

One of the Templars to his side leaned toward the leader.  “The Elder One wants her alive, ser.”

“That hardly complicates matters.” The leader waved off his companion.

Cullen had heard enough to understand that these men were not friendly.  “You will not take her!”  He roared at the mounted people.

The leader of the group slid from his horse, the rest of the group following suit.  All of them pulled their weapons free.  “You may leave with your life, if you hand her over to us.  The Venatori are not interested in you.”

“Not going to happen!”  Cullen stepped shoulder to shoulder with Solas, blocking Ciara from view.

The Templar darkly chuckled.  “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.” 

* * *

 

Ciara watched the man, as he rushed at Cullen, swinging his own sword down hard onto Cullen’s shield.

Solas instantly began casting bolts of lightning in rapid succession at the other Templars, keeping them at a distance.

Ciara ran back, and to the side, sending arrow after arrow into the mass of armored men.  She hid behind a fallen tree, her aim true, as she felled man after man. 

She was halfway through her supply of arrows when she heard Solas cry out in pain.  She turned her head to see Solas fall to the ground, an enemy arrow lodged in his chest.

“Solas, no!”  Ciara screamed as she ran from her cover toward the fallen man.

Before she could reach him, a huge, meaty arm circled her waist.  She was hefted off her feet and pulled against a man’s chest.  Another arm snaked around her neck, the glint of a sharpened dagger caught her attention before it disappeared below her chin, pressing into her neck.

She heard the man chuckle in her ear as he faced her toward Cullen, who was still fighting the leader of the group.

“Cullen!”

He pushed his attacker away with his shield before turning to the cry.  The look on his face turned horrified.

The leader of the Templars ceased his attack, breathing heavily.  He laughed at Cullen.  “I warned you!  You fight well, but we had numbers on our side, though I have to admit, your people did some damage to mine.” 

He casually strolled up to the man holding Ciara hostage.  “I have no reason to let you live, now.”

“Wait!”  Ciara screamed at the man before he could order Cullen’s death.  “If you let them go, I’ll leave with you, peacefully.  I know your boss wants me alive.  If you kill them, I’ll force you to kill me as well.”  To prove her point, she leaned into the dagger, drawing a bead of blood that fell down her neck.

Cullen felt desperate.  “No!  Ciara, don’t do this!”

“Shut up, Cullen!”  She didn’t take her eyes off of the leader.  “Get Solas and get out of here!”  Speaking to the Templar, “Let them go, and I will go with you.  That is the deal.  Take it or leave it.”

The man sighed heavily at the nuisance.  “Fine, very well.”  He looked at Cullen.  “Pick up your apostate and leave.  You’re lucky that I’m feeling generous today.”  He laughed.

Cullen shook his head violently at her.  “I’m not leaving you!”

Ciara looked at him dead in the eyes.  “If you don’t leave, we’re all dead, and the Inquisition needs you.  Go!  That’s an order, Cullen!”

Cullen scanned the dozen remaining soldiers, all of which had their weapons trained on him.  He sent her one last mixed look of rage and desperation, before sheathing his sword and shouldering his shield.

With heavy steps, he moved to Solas’ still breathing body.  He broke the shaft of the arrow before hoisting him over his shoulder.  He turned back to Ciara for any indication that she had changed her mind.

He saw her mouth _“Go”_ at him.

With mounting regret, he turned his back to her, walking to their horses.  He placed Solas over the saddle of his horse, being mindful of his injuries.  Retrieving the other two horse’s reigns, Cullen climbed behind the unconscious man.

He spurred the horse toward Haven, careful to keep Solas in his lap.  As he crested the hill in front of him, he halted the horses and turned to look at the attackers and Ciara in the distance. 

Cullen saw her watching him retreat, having been released from the man’s grip and forced to her knees.  He could barely make out her nod in his direction, before the leader kicked her from behind, sending her sprawling to the ground.

He straddled her back and roughly tied her hands behind her.  She continued to look in Cullen’s direction as her captor stood, pulling her back to her knees.  He walked to the front of her and backhanded her with his gauntleted hand, sending her sprawling, unmoving.

Cullen flinched violently, anger spreading through his chest. 

He knew if he rode back to try and rescue her, both of them would likely die.  He understood that her only chance of survival was getting back to Haven quickly, and launching a rescue party.

He regretfully turned his back to her, once again, and rode as quickly as he could toward Haven.

* * *

 

Leliana had just taken Cassandra’s report about her encounter with the Chantry and Templars at Val Royeaux when the horn sounded, indicating that someone was approaching the village.  Hoping it was the returning Herald, she raced to the front gates.

As she neared the wall, she heard Cullen shouting.

“Surgeon!  I need a surgeon here!”  He was nearly screaming as he rode into town.

She saw Cullen racing in, two horses in tow, one of which was Ciara’s now infamous black stallion.

The Qunari warrior ran up to Cullen as he skid to a stop.  Leliana watched as the man effortlessly lifted a limp Solas from Cullen’s saddle.  She watched him lay the bloody elf on the ground, pressing a huge hand around the remaining arrow shaft.

Cullen jumped down from his horse, breathless as he ran up to Leliana.  “War room, get Cassandra and Josephine.  Now!”

She raced after the sprinting man.  “What has happened?  Where is the Herald?”

“They have her!  We need to rescue her!”  He shouted as he ran through the town.

Leliana gripped Cullen’s wrist tightly, forcing him to face her.  “Who has her?

He grimaced, shaking his head roughly.  “The Venatori.  They have Ciara!”

Cullen tore his hand from her grasp and ran toward the Chantry, leaving Leliana staring at his back, her mouth hanging open.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish translations:
> 
> Shemlen = Derogatory term for human, literally “quick blood”
> 
> Ma isala atishan, da’assan. = You need peace, little arrow.
> 
> Emma na’reth. = I am your safety.
> 
> Ma serannas = Thank you
> 
> Lethallan/Lethallin = A fond title for friends or family. Lethallan is feminine, Lethallin is masculine
> 
> Emma abelas = I am sorry
> 
> Hahren = A respected elder
> 
>  
> 
> For information on Harrowings: http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Harrowing


	15. Blood Letting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Warning, this chapter depicts graphic torture. If this is a trigger, please read cautiously.*
> 
> As Cullen races to mount a rescue for Ciara, our heroine awakens in chains... again. Will he make it to her in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TY Crystalline and DeviantRhapsode for your awesome feedback and edits! TY again to my hubby, Dekannaibsel. Happy Birthday baby! (An odd birthday present... -.- )

Cullen stood before the war table, his head in his hands.  He shook with a combination of rage and despair, both at the Templars who captured Ciara, and himself.  He should have known better!  He should have protected her!  What kind of Commander was he if he couldn’t protect a single woman?  The thoughts ripped through his mind, torturing him.

“How did this happen?  How could you let her get kidnapped?”  Cassandra was yelling at his covered face, accusingly.

Seeing the man was taking a beating from himself, as well as the angry woman, Josephine stepped between them.  “There is nothing the Commander could have done.  What’s done is done.”  She placed a soothing hand on Cullen’s arm.  “We need you now, Commander.  How do we get her back?”

Cassandra grunted angrily, throwing her hands in the air.  “We do not even know where they took her.  We do not even know if she still lives!”

“She lives.  I heard one of the soldiers say that someone called the ‘Elder One’ wanted her alive.  The leader of their group did not argue with that.  He’ll keep her alive.”  Cullen wiped his hands down his face before continuing.  “In what condition, I don’t know.”

Leliana had been uncharacteristically quiet.  Her eyes were shadowed from her own guilt of allowing the three of them to leave, alone.  “I have scouts out to track the group.  A dozen horses will be impossible to not track.  I am confident we will have her location soon.”

Cassandra felt a surge of hope.  “Then we must gather our forces and follow them, immediately!”  She began walking toward the door.

“Not so fast, Cassandra!”  Leliana reached out and grasped her arm.  “Even if we had a location, it would be foolhardy to storm wherever they have her.  Though they have orders to not kill her, they may do it if they fear we might get her back.  We will have to be stealthy in our rescue.”  Leliana stepped to the door to give orders to one of the soldiers stationed outside. 

As she opened the door, Solas pushed his way inside.  The light-skinned elf was even paler, dark circles around his eyes highlighted the blues of his irises.  His breath came in heaving gasps, as if he had run all the way from Orlais.  His left arm was bound tightly across his body, and a small bloom of fresh blood seeped through the bandage on his chest.

Leliana draped his free hand over her shoulder and led him to the table so he could lean on it.  “Solas!  I am glad you are awake, but shouldn’t you be resting?”

He waved at her, dismissively, but the action had the man dangerously swaying.  Leliana put an arm around his waist to stabilize him.

“We have no time for resting.  I know where she is!”  He was not looking at any of the advisors.  Instead, his eyes were glued to the map and he pointed, heavily, at an area to the East.  “She’s in an abandoned keep, there!”

Everyone else in the room was staring at him, silently. 

It was Cullen who spoke first.  “How do you know this, Solas?”

“While I was asleep, I searched the Fade and followed them.  Their trail ends here.  I do not know how long they plan on staying there, however.  We must go to her!”  His eyes remained fixed on the map.

Cassandra placed a hand on his shoulder.  “You are not going anywhere, Solas.  You can hardly stand!”

“Seeker, I must go!  This place is well hidden.  Without me, there is a strong possibility that you will never find it.”

“I propose we employ the Chargers for their first assignment.”  Leliana stepped to the door once more, asking one of the soldiers to fetch Iron Bull.  She came back to the table after shutting the door.  “Who better to be a part of this rescue mission than a Ben-Hassrath?”

She had barely made it back to the table before a loud knock sounded on the door, and the huge Qunari stooped through the doorway.  He closed the door behind him.  “I was standing right outside.  I helped your elf hobble his way over here, and I was wondering when you’d get around to asking for our help.”  He was grinning, widely.  “The Chargers would be the best group to take to rescue this woman.  We know how to be stealthy, and we can kick ass.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.  “I still believe we should take our soldiers.  We need to be able to fight an unknown number of Templars.  The more soldiers we have, the better our chances will be.”

“Not necessarily, Cassandra.”  Bull moved his massive frame to the table.  “My boys can easily take down any amount of Templars we’ll be facing, and they’re quiet.  We can get in, take out their scouts, and infiltrate the keep before anyone notices half of their forces are suddenly missing.”

“Fourteen.”  Was all Solas said.

Everyone looked at the sick-looking mage.

“There are fourteen Templars.”  Solas seemed in a daze.  “There were more, but we dispatched a large number of them before they were able to capture her.  They are down to fourteen Templars.”

Bull laughed loudly.  “And here I thought we’d have a challenge!  My men are ready to go when you are!  We should go on horseback immediately, but I’d suggest you order a cart to follow us.  We might get some prisoners you’d want to keep around, or people who can’t sit upright in a saddle.”  He smiled and tilted his head in Solas’ direction

Leliana nodded at Bull, before facing Josephine.  “A splendid idea.  Josie, keep Haven together while we’re gone.  I’ll be joining the Chargers on this mission.”  She wrapped Solas’ loose arm around her shoulders once more, before turning to head out the door.

“Understood.  Will everyone please be careful?”  Josephine followed them all out of the war room, before grabbing onto Cullen’s arm, dragging his attention back to her.  “Bring her back, Commander.”  It was a plea, more than an order.

Cullen reached over and squeezed her hand.  “I promise.”  He nodded at her before running after the swiftly moving group.

* * *

 

Ciara was getting tired of waking up with headaches.  She tried to open her eyes, but the left would not.  It took her a moment to remember the steel glove swinging across her face before she lost consciousness.  A wave of nausea caused her to gulp air as she fought the dread rising in her chest.  The memories of Templars and pain, blood and agony, swam in her mind.

Her shoulders ached, and she attempted to pull a hand to her face.  Neither of her outstretched hands would move, but she heard chains rattle with her movements.  Using her good eye, she peeked at her right arm.  It was extended out and up, a chain extending from the shackle around her wrist.  Turning her head to look at the other arm, she became aware that she was being held up by her arms, chained to the ceiling at an angle.  She straightened her legs to take some of the pressure off of her pained shoulders.

As she stood, she looked around the room she was in.  It was obviously a dungeon, as various devices of dubious nature dotted the room.  Old blood stained the stone floor, and the smell of death and despair was prevalent in the air.  There were a few chairs placed near where she was chained to stone pillars on either side of her.  A single, heavy looking, wooden door looked to be the only exit, as there were no windows.  The only light in the dank room was a few torches lining the walls.

Just when Ciara was gaining her bearings to search for a way to escape, the door crashed open, and three Templars walked in.  One of them carried a tray of items and swiftly moved behind her, out of view.  The one she had associated as their leader stopped in front of her, smiling down at her.

“I’m glad to see you’ve awakened.  This wouldn’t be as fun, otherwise.”  His voice rumbled with a chuckle.  “I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced.  My name is Knight-Captain Denam.”

His dark grin sent shivers down her spine, but she refused to be the first one to look away from their staring contest.  He sighed and held a hand out to the Templar behind her.  A long, frighteningly sharp blade appeared in her peripheral vision, in range of the man’s grasp.  He gripped the handle of the knife and placed it on her cheek, below her right eye.

“Well then, let’s get started, shall we?  Unfortunately I’m unable to kill you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get some information out of you before the Elder One whisks you away.”  He slid the knife down her cheek and jaw, drawing blood as he followed the curve of her neck to her shirt.

Ciara figured by the man’s speech that pleading for mercy would only excite him.  Instead, she lashed out.  “I don’t know what you want to know from me, but even if I know the answers to your questions, I’d never tell you!”  She then spat in his face.

He chuckled, wiping her spit from his cheek.  Suddenly, Ciara’s vision exploded in stars, as fresh pain enveloped her head.  She heard herself groan loudly, unwillingly, as she realized that the man had head-butted her.  She took several deep breaths, bidding her vision to return as she felt the trickle of blood fall from her hairline.

“That was just rude!”  The Templar laughed loudly at her.

He pressed the blade of the knife at her chest again, digging into her skin enough to draw blood, causing her to gasp.  He salaciously grinned at the sound, before dragging the knife under the collar of her shirt and down.  A jagged line of beading blood followed the knife as it descended down her body.  The blade easily sliced the fabric as he continued between her breasts, cutting through her breastband and the remaining section of shirt covering her belly.  He used the knife to cut her sleeves, leaving her bare from the waist up.  There was an angry red line from her neck to her belly button, blood welling in spots where the knife had pressed further into her delicate skin.

Ciara shivered, as much from cold, as from the raw fear she faced at the intrusion.  She believed that she was going to die there.  She only worried about the amount of damage the Templars would do to her body and mind in the process.  She closed her eyes and prayed to the Elven gods for strength as she felt the blade cut her leggings and smalls from her body, leaving her naked in front of the men.

“It’s a shame that you have such a nice little body, elf.  It won’t be so perfect when I’m done with it.”  He grinned, wolfishly, as he stepped behind her. 

She could hear him setting the knife on the tray of items the other Templar had placed behind her.  She could tell he was fussing over which instrument to use on her next, as he hummed behind her, joyously.

Her mouth felt dry as she tried to speak.  “What do you want?  Who is this ‘Elder One’?”

Suddenly his mouth was pressed to the shell of her ear and he spoke softly, his breath hot on the side of her face.  “You shall see, soon enough.  For now, you’re mine.”  He quickly stepped away from her.

She was about to ask another question when a loud crack sounded in the air.  Several lines of fire spread across her back, and she screamed in pain.  One of the tendrils had wrapped around her sensitive waist, and Ciara bowed her head to see an angry welt surface on her skin, a few drops of blood coming through broken skin.  She could hear him moan at the sound of her cry.  It was clear that he was enjoying her pain.

Before she had time to recover from the first strike, another landed.  Several more lines of fire crossed her back.  Ciara slumped forward, crying out, her knees giving out in shock.  She tried to stand, but her legs would not cooperate.  Her head hung low, breathing rapidly.  She could feel her torn back running with her blood, as was evident with the pool growing at her feet. 

Denam stepped around her and lifted her chin to look in her swollen, bleeding face.  "If you're the Herald of Andraste, like your Inquisition is claiming, why doesn't she save you now?"  He sneered at her.

"Fuck you!"  She cursed at him with as much conviction as she could muster. 

He only laughed louder, releasing her face.  He took a step back, and punched her in the stomach, feeling her lower ribs break under his clenched hand.  While she was bent over from the blow, he laced the fingers of both hands together.  With as much force as he could, he slammed his fists down on the joint of her shoulder. 

Her arm ripped from its socket, sending her vision spinning as she screamed.  Bile rose in her throat as she heaved violently at the pain.  She whimpered as the lights in the room seemed to dim, and she passed out.

"Oh come on!"  Denam screamed.  "You can't be finished already!  What happened to Elven stamina?  Hah!"

One of the other Templars stepped up to him.  "Should I wake her, sir?"

"No, let her awake cold and alone.  The Elder One isn't to arrive for a couple days, at the very least.  Extinguish all of the torches.  I don't want anything to distract her from the pain when she wakes up."

The soldier immediately complied as Denam and the other man left the room.  As soon as he left, the soldier took the last remaining torch and stepped up to the unconscious woman.  He bent down to her ear and whispered "I'm sorry" in her ear, before placing the torch on the ground at her feet, leaving it alight.  Without glancing back, he strode out of the dungeon and shut the door behind him.

* * *

 

As the sun set, the Chargers, Cullen, Leliana, Cassandra, Dorian, and Solas had arrived at the boundaries of the keep.  Leliana and a couple of Bull's rogues quickly dispatched four scouts stationed around the decrepit building. 

As they returned to the remaining group, Leliana saw Solas sitting very still, his head bowed, with his chin pressing to his chest.  "What is he doing?"  She whispered to Cullen. 

"He's sleeping."

"Sleeping?!  How is he sleeping, now?"  She asked him, incredulous.

Solas awakened then.  "I was searching the memories of this place to see where she's being kept."  He scrambled to his feet, assisted by Bull.  "Go through the main doorway of the keep, down the hall.  The first door on the right heads down, into the dungeon.  She's been left alone for the past several hours."

"How is she?"  Cullen asked, barely masking his desperation.

The mage couldn't look at him.  "We need to get in there.  Now.  I will guide the Commander, Dorian, and The Iron Bull to her, the rest of you should make sure we will be safe."  He said, urgently.

"Agreed.  I'll take Cassandra, Krem, and your mage inside with me, and then we'll stand guard outside of the dungeon door.  If anyone comes to finish the Herald off, we will stop them."  Leliana nodded to her new crew.

"I'm not a mage!  That would make me an apostate!"  Cried the woman Leliana had pointed out.

Bull looked back at the woman.  "Not now, Dalish.  Just go with Leliana and watch our backs."

"Yes, Captain!"

The three groups instantly broke without another word.  Leliana’s and Solas’ groups headed right for the front gate, while the main fighting force began to clear the battlements and the inner courtyard.  The two teams going inside could hear muffled combat from the yard as they headed into the keep.

* * *

 

As soon as the teams entered the keep, they came across four Templars, two lining each door on either side of the hallway.  Cassandra and Cullen charged forward, slamming into the surprised men.  Arrows and spells flew over their shoulders, while Krem and Bull ran up to stand by the charging warriors, attacking their opponents with long handled weapons.

Due to their sound tactics, they were easily able to overpower the men, killing them quickly.  Solas crept to the dungeon door, panting heavily already.

“Are you sure that you’re alright, Solas?”  Cullen was genuinely concerned for the mage.  He seemed to be pushing himself harder than was wise.

Solas spared him a scarce glance.  “I will be fine once we get her out of here.”  He pulled the door open, exposing a dark staircase heading into the earth.  In the distance, at the bottom of the stairs, he could see another wooden door.

Gently pushing the mage aside, Cullen nodded to him.  “I’ll go first, in case there is anyone down there with her.”  He quickly descended the stairs, as quietly as his plate armor would allow.  As he neared the bottom, he slowed to a walk.  He listened for any sound of Templars moving about. 

When he got to the door, he eased it open a crack, pressing his face to the wood to look through.  The room was mostly dark, only a faint flame flickered against the wall.  Cullen couldn't see any people, but backlit against the wall, was the shadow of a body hanging by its wrists. 

Cullen pushed the door open, roughly.  In front of him was a blood covered, naked Elven woman, standing in a pool of presumably her own blood. 

Instantly, Cullen dropped his sword and shield, having noted no other dangers in the room.  He quickly unclasped his cloak from his shoulders, running to the stilled figure.  He laid the cloak over her nakedness as he heard the Qunari swear behind him.  Bull's swear was quickly followed by another curse from Dorian and Solas, but Cullen didn't hear them.

He wrapped his hands around her back to support her, but her back was wet and slick.  The instant he touched her, Ciara's head bobbed gently as she moaned.  Cullen immediately took his hand away and brought it in front of his face.  It was covered in blood.

"Solas, check her back!"  He yelled for the mage, feeling completely powerless to help her.  As Solas stepped towards them to look at what he was indicating, Cullen gently lifted her chin.  He grimaced at her swollen eye, and the cut slicing down her elegant cheek.  She was nearly unidentifiable, if it weren't for her dark red hair in its characteristic bun, and her unique green vallaslin. 

Solas moved behind her as quickly as he could and his eyes widened.  “ _Fenedhis lasa.”_ He looked over her bent head at Cullen.  “They flayed her back to pieces.  Take off your breastplate.  You are going to have to cradle her so I can heal the worst of these before we move her too much.”

Cullen did not bother to ask questions, and he began untying the straps to his plate armor with haste. 

Bull walked around the unconscious woman, taking in her wounds.  “Her shoulder is dislocated, we should put that back in before she wakes up, or it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch.”

Solas nodded at the huge man.  “I agree.  Cullen, when you are prepared, I will place your hands on her back in a way that will not injure her further.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”  Cullen stepped up to Ciara’s front.

He pulled his cloak over her shoulder to try and cover her more completely.  He stooped to give himself leverage to pick her up and held his hands out to either side of her limp body.  Solas took one hand at a time, and placed it on an area of her back that the lashes had not scathed.  With those hand placements, Cullen was able to take her weight off of her injured shoulder, picking her completely off the ground. 

Bull picked up her dislocated arm and maneuvered it around.  “Hold onto her tightly, Cullen.  This is going to hurt and she might buck a bit.”

Cullen firmed his grip on her back, holding her tightly to his chest.  He braced his legs.  He had reset a few dislocated shoulders during his time in the Templars.  He knew it took quite a bit of force to push them back into place.

With a short countdown, Bull expertly manipulated Ciara’s arm until it resumed its correct position with a loud crack that seemed to rattle Cullen’s teeth.

Bull’s brow furrowed, and his one good eye narrowed at Ciara.

“What?  What’s wrong, Bull?” Cullen fervently asked the Qunari.

“I’ve set my fair share of these injuries, and even if she’s knocked out, the pain should have been enough to rouse her…even a little.”  He put his hand to her chin, tilting her head up.  Ciara’s eyes remained shut, her face and body were completely still, except for her even breathing.

While Cullen and Bull were focusing on her shoulder, and Solas was already healing her back with his untied hand, Dorian set to work to unlock her wrists from the chains.  He figured if he heated the lock and cooled it to freezing rapidly, the metal would stress and fracture.  He was right.  Dorian stepped behind her to reach her other wrist, when he looked at the damage done to the small elf’s back.  The sight shot a wave of nausea through him.  He willed it away as he set to work on the other shackle.

“When Dorian’s done, I want you to lie on the ground with her on your chest until I can get the most of this bleeding under control.  I need her back straightened, and better your back in the dirt than her naked body.”  Solas aimed the demand at Cullen, who nodded quickly.

Dorian broke the remaining lock and Ciara was freed, supported by Cullen alone.  He carefully knelt on the ground, and gently rolled to his back, easily taking the weight of her body onto his own.

For her own modesty, as well as the comfort of the rest of the men in the room, Solas took an extra section of Cullen’s cloak and covered her bottom, leaving only her damaged back exposed.  He then quickly set to work on her back, healing the worst of the cuts first.

Looking for something to do, Bull walked around the room.  His sight landed on the tray that held an array of tools suited for torture.  Among the equipment was a bloody knife, and a cat of nine tails, tipped with tiny blades, also covered in red gore.  He picked up the whip and turned toward the other men.

“This must be what he used on her back.” 

Dorian was first to respond, as he turned from the sight, gulping in air with his hand held over his mouth.

Cullen’s eyes were wide with horror.  “Maker’s breath!  These Templars are animals!”

Solas barely glanced at the tool before turning back to his duty.  “Just _these_ Templars?  I am fairly certain there are many more where these came from.”

“All Templars are not this…terrible!” Cullen shot the mage a furious look from his spot on the ground. 

Cullen removed his hands from her back to position her head into a more comfortable position on his chest.  Her face was toward him, so he wiped the bloody hair from her face.

He tried to get Dorian’s attention.  “Hey, Master Pavus!  Do you not know any healing spells?  I don’t know what spells they teach you in your country, other than blood magic.” 

He had said the last bit under his breath, but Dorian was not nearly hard of hearing. 

“Contrary to popular belief around here, not _every_ mage in Tevinter uses blood magic!  Yes, I do know some healing spells, but I’m not nearly as proficient as Solas is.” 

The look in the mage’s face was enough to make Cullen reconsider their current position.  “I apologize.  You are right, I was being arrogant.  If you are comfortable enough with any spells, could you do something with the smaller wounds?  She has a laceration on her head, for sure.”

Dorian dramatically sighed.  “Of course I’ll help.  Ciara has been very welcoming to me, under the circumstances.”  He moved to kneel by Cullen and Ciara’s heads.  “Let me see what I can do.”  He set to work healing her bruised and cut face.

“I’m going to see if I can get some clean water and some rags, if the throat cutters are done out there.”  Bull moved toward the door. 

Before he could reach it, Cassandra ran through the doorway, Leliana hot on her heels.

“Oh sweet Maker!”  Cassandra flew to an opening by their sides.  “Is she even alive?”

“Dear Seeker, do you think I would be working on a corpse?”  Solas smirked at her.

She glared at him, angrily.  “Well, I’m glad you can make light of this!” 

Cullen beat Solas to a retort.  “Cassandra, stop.  Let him say what he wants, as long as he saves the Herald’s life.”

Solas gave Cullen a smirk that he was sure Cassandra would not be able to see.

Leliana and Bull came back with a bucket of clean water and some clean cloth they had salvaged from their own bedrolls. The women ushered Bull and Krem outside to stand watch, leaving only the healers and Ciara’s current mattress in the room with her.

Cullen could not take his eyes off her face for long.  Dorian had done fine work healing the injuries to her face.  Not even a light scar remained from the knife wound on her cheek.  Her swollen eye was not entirely gone, but she should be able to open it again, at least.

The stout warrior had taken to stroking her arms, gently.  In his mind, he whispered apologies to her over and over, begging for forgiveness.  The only thing that lightened his heavy spirit was the fact that she was alive, even if she was severely injured.  He thought back to his own torture in the Ferelden Circle.  At the time, he had blamed all mages for the physical and psychological wounds inflicted upon him.  Now, he held a mage in his arms, wishing he had been the one tortured instead of her.

* * *

 

It took the better part of an hour, and a swift break for both mages to excuse themselves from the room to down a lyrium potion until Ciara was moveable, according to Solas.  While the mages were outside, the two women cleaned her body with clean rags and water.  With Cullen’s position, he was unable to see much, not that he would have been able to move, regardless.

When Ciara was ready to be moved, Solas wrapped the remainder of her naked body in Cullen’s cloak.  Bull rolled her off of Cullen, and into his arms, and he walked her out of the dungeon. 

Cullen accepted a helping hand from Cassandra to stand.  He stretched his aching muscles, before grabbing his forgotten breastplate, shield, and sword.  He sheathed his sword before quickly reaffixing his armor and fitting the shield to his back.  He was the last to leave the dungeon, following the group to the surface.

The wagon that had slowly followed the group from Haven had reached them a short time earlier.  Bull climbed into the back of the wagon, laying her body on several bedrolls that numerous people had donated to make the Herald’s journey back to Haven as comfortable as possible.

“Hey, Solas, do you want me to lay her on her back, or front?”  Bull eyed the exhausted mage.

Solas accepted help from Dorian, climbing into the wagon.  “Her back is mostly healed, a few smaller scratches.  You can put her on her back.  If she wakes up, she’ll probably be more comfortable that way.”

Cassandra stepped up to Cullen.  “We have scouts in the far perimeter.  It looks like we have taken care of this band of Templars.  I would suggest camping here for the rest of the night, and leaving at sunrise.  Most of these people are still pretty tired from our trek to Haven from the Storm Coast.”

Cullen stretched his stiff neck before responding.  “I agree.  If it is cleared with Leliana, then we will leave at first light.”  She turned to walk away, but he stopped her.  “Thank you, Cassandra.  If you hadn’t the foresight to hire the Chargers, we may not have been able to rescue her.”

She stepped back up to him, speaking low.  “She will be alright, Cullen.  Have no doubt, the Herald is a strong woman.  She will make it.”  She grinned at him before turning and walking away, talking to Bull about shift rotations for the night.

Cullen returned her grin at her turned back, before spinning and climbing into the wagon with Ciara and Solas.  He sat on the opposite side of her, before beginning to extract his exhausted body from his armor.  He had not slept in nearly two days, and his mind and body could take little more.

As he took his pauldrons from his shoulders, and his breastplate from his chest, yet again, he felt the metal of the pendant lying on his chest.  He looked up at Solas.  The mage was staring at him, expectedly.

“Yes?”

Solas’ expression lightened.  “I’m simply surprised you would choose to spend the night in tight quarters with the Herald and me.  Myself, I am here to help her if she needs healing when she wakes up.  I wonder why you are here.”

Cullen answered carefully.  “My soldiers are back at Haven, or I would be with them.  As it stands, I feel responsible for this.  Until she’s safely back in Haven, I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

“Ah, so we both blame ourselves.  Good to know I am not alone in my self-doubt.”  Solas smirked, his eyes shutting.

Cullen lay down next to the still-sleeping woman.  “Yeah, I guess you are not alone.”

Within moments, both men followed the injured Herald into the Fade.


	16. Secret Admirers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen, Solas, and Ciara deal with the aftermath of her torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Crystalline and DeviantRhapsode for the insanely quick feedback! I'm so lucky to have Beta readers such as you!

Residual adrenaline refused to let Cullen sleep for long, and he opened his eyes soon after falling asleep next to Ciara and Solas.  He glanced at the two sharing the wagon with him.  Ciara was completely still, except for her steady breathing.  On the other hand, Solas twitched lightly, his eyes rapidly moving beneath their lids. 

Being careful to not uncover the naked woman, Cullen pulled a corner of his cloak over her exposed feet.  He reached up around the back of his neck and unclasped the chain holding the pendant of Andraste.  He stared at the bejeweled trinket for a moment, before carefully leaning over Ciara and gently working the chain beneath her neck.  He took the pendant and gently placed it as far down on her chest, under the fur of his mantle, as he dared. 

Cullen pulled the bedroll out from underneath him and gently laid it over both sleeping figures.  He then inched toward the front wall of the wagon, careful to make as little noise as possible.  Stretching out his legs in front of him, he leaned against the wood, wrapped his arms around his torso, and stared at the camp beyond the wagon.  Feeling like it was still his duty, even as an ex-Templar, to protect the injured mages, he refused to let the sounds of their slumber lull him.

  He glanced at Solas again, cautiously, ensuring the mage was not having a bad dream.  He was taught and trained that mages were more likely to lose control of their magic if a bad dream took hold of their minds.  Although the elf seemed to be deep in a strong dream, Cullen felt no tugs on the Fade to indicate loss of control.  This man was certainly experienced enough to know of his own boundaries.  Cullen trusted that his knowledge of the fade would keep him safe.

* * *

 

In the darkened keep, Solas strode the halls, following the same path he had made earlier with Cullen, Iron Bull and Dorian.  Unafraid of being discovered, he steadily descended the dark staircase, following the cries of the woman he had come to care about.  He reached the heavy wooden door and pushed it open into the dungeon beyond.

He took in the hellish scene before him.  Ciara was chained to the ceiling by her wrists.  She intermittently stood and let herself sag, her body being held up by her bleeding wrists.  A man in Templar armor stood before her, drawing a sharp blade against her soft cheek, opening her flesh to the air.  He heard as much as saw the deranged man’s glee at the blood he had let loose. 

Solas felt a twinge of pride in his chest when the woman looked him in the eye and spit in his face.  He immediately cringed when the Templar butted her face, causing a small stream of fresh blood to pour from her hairline.  He regretfully watched as the man smiled evilly while he forced her arm from its socket. 

He took a step forward before reminding himself that this was just a memory in the Fade, that there was nothing he could do to save her now. 

The lead Templar had moved behind her, a cat-o-nine-tails in his hand, blood dripping from the bladed tips.  As he raised his arm to strike the naked woman once more, Solas felt angry and helpless.  He knew there was nothing he could do to change what had happened.  He knew that, with time, Ciara’s body would heal.  He would do his best to see that she had few to no physical scars.  The wounds to her mind, however, could be far more difficult to heal, if not impossible. 

As the blow landed, Ciara’s body arched violently, her scream piercing a hole in Solas’ heart.  He watched her sag once more, her sobs stilling as she lost consciousness.  His brow furrowed with distress.  _Why is the Fade showing me this?  Why so soon after it happened?_

He listened to the Templars mocking the hanging woman before they left her in the dungeon.  He watched as the young Templar, one he knew to be dead now, showed a small act of kindness by disobeying his superior, laying a lit torch on the ground at Ciara’s feet.  Solas was shocked to hear the man apologize to her.  He felt a pang of sadness over the loss of the young man.  Clearly not a bad man, he had just been following orders, and had died for it.

As the last of the Templars retreated, Solas glanced at Ciara’s still body.  Blood ran in rivulets from the multitude of cuts and gouges on her young body.  He was curious why the memory remained.  With no one conscious in the room, the memory should have faded to black.  That is, unless…

“Solas.”

His head jerked at the sound, his eyes going wide.  Ciara’s bent head bobbed as her shoulders moved with her quiet sob.

Her voice cracked as blood poured over her ample lips.  “Solas, if you’re seeing this, I’m sorry.”

Solas knelt at the naked woman’s body, looking up into her face.  She held her eyes closed still, but he could see her brow furrow, as tears fell to the ground.

Her hoarse voice continued, breaking his heart.  “If you see this when you’re exploring the Fade, I want you to know that I don’t blame you.  Neither of you.  Chances are I’m going to die here.  I want you to tell Cullen that he shouldn’t blame himself.  I know you both will.”  Her breathing shuddered as sobs wracked her body. 

It took her several moments to regain control of her breathing, before she continued.  “I love you both, very much.  I hope you know that.  All of the teasing, the tantrums…I know you were just pushing me for my own good.  Please, believe me, and tell Cullen the same.  You both deserve someone who loves you, I’m just sorry I couldn’t tell you, myself.  Don’t let him beat himself up, Solas.  Please!  Tell him it was not his fault!”

Her body sagged more as her breathing stuttered more deeply.  Her voice became thicker as she fought to stay awake.  “Please…tell him I love you both…”  The room began to darken and shake as she lost her battle.  Darkness overtook him, as unconsciousness took her.

* * *

 

Solas gasped as he sat straight up in the wagon.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Cullen startle sharply from his seated position against the wall.  He looked over at the man, who was staring back at him with wide eyes.  “I apologize, Commander.  The Fade was showing me what happened to our Herald.  It was unsettling, to say the least.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed as his brow returned to its familiar frown.  “You dreamt of her torture?  Why?”

“Sometimes, the Fade shows me what I want to see.”  He wiped a hand down his face, surprised to feel wetness under his eyes.  “Sometimes it shows me what I _need_ to see.  Apparently, I needed to see that.” 

Solas glanced down at Ciara, ensuring that his fit had not bothered her rest.  He reached for her, drawing an errant strand of red hair from her face.  “Before she lost consciousness, she had the foresight to leave me a message.  She knew that eventually I would be drawn to seek out what happened to her.”  He could see Cullen shaking his head.

“She thought she was going to die there.  Why else leave a message?”  Cullen questioned the man.  “Do I want to know what the message was?”

Solas took a deep breath, wincing at the reminder of his injuries.  “I am unsure if you wish to hear the message or not.  Regardless, at least part of what she spoke of was directed at you.  She pleaded that I share the message before she lost the will to stay awake.”

Cullen’s eyes widened with shock.  “She wanted you to give _me_ a message?”

Solas looked directly into his honey-colored eyes.  “Of course, Commander.  You are important to her.  Why would she not want to give you a last message if she were dying?” 

Cullen could not help the blush that swept across his face.  He just hoped that the darkness of the night would conceal the heat in on his cheeks.  “Well, she’s not dead.  I see no reason to tell me what she said.  She can tell me, herself, when she’s awake.”

“Commander Cullen.”  Solas reached across the still body, placing a gentle hand on Cullen’s shoulder.  “There is a possibility that the trauma she has endured will keep her from us.  Even if she does awaken, her mental state may not be the same as before.  She pleaded with me to tell you, and the Fade showed me this memory now for a reason.  Believe me, this is as uncomfortable for me to say as it is for you to hear, but hear it you must.”

Solas retreated, sitting cross-legged against the wall of the wagon.  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before telling Cullen what Ciara had so desperately wanted him to know.  “She wanted you to know that none of this was your fault.  The choice was hers to make, and she made it.  She knew we would both berate ourselves over this.”

He opened his eyes, shifting them to the starry skies above.  He chose his next words carefully.  He did not want to diminish her thoughts, but some of what she had said belonged to him, alone.  “She said she cares for you, deeply.  She believes you are deserving of someone who loves you.  She loves you, in what context, she did not say.”

Cullen sat, stunned.  His mouth hung open as he stared at the bald elf.  He had to force his mind to return to him with a shake of the head.  He cleared his throat while he shifted uncomfortably.  “Well, we have become close, I’m sure she meant as friends or confidants.  As far as the rest of her comments are concerned, I will have to thank her for trying to ease my conscience.”

“It was to ease both of our consciences, Commander.  But I understand and am with you that we will continue to believe ourselves culpable for what has happened to her.  I want to believe there was nothing we could do, but I was the one to bring us out here, alone.”  Solas said to the heavens.

Cullen huffed.  “And I was the one who promised to protect her.  The one sworn to protect all mages, and I failed…again.”

“It seems that as well thought as the Herald’s comments were, they will fall on deaf ears.”  Solas chuckled lightly.

Cullen chuckled with him.  “Yes, I believe they will.”

* * *

 

Sounds were coming to her as if she was swimming under water.  Men’s muffled words crept into her mind as she struggled toward the surface.  It was the unmistakable sound of Solas and Cullen chuckling that brought Ciara’s heavy eyes to open just a crack.

Before she opened her eyes fully, she tried to take in as much of her situation as she could. 

Still aching from head to toe, the sharp pains that had plagued her earlier were oddly absent.  Her arms were no longer outstretched above her head.  Instead, she lay on her back on a padded floor.  Her puffy eyes saw no ceiling, just thousands of stars sparkling in a blackened sky.  She could smell the smoke from a campfire, as well as the incense that Solas preferred, and the lightly musky scent that could only be described as _Cullen_.  Fur tickled her chest and shoulders.  She was warm, bordering on hot, covered in a blanket.  Above her head, she heard a heavy sigh, startling close to her.

Opening her eyes, Ciara sat straight upright, mentally preparing herself to fight.  She heard duel gasps behind her, as she took in the sight of the camp in front of her.  She was no longer in the Templar dungeon, it seemed.  The sudden chill on her exposed back reminded her that she was completely naked.  As the fabric covering her front began to slip down her chest, she pulled her arms out of the warmth to hold the fur up.  Sitting up so quickly caused her vision to swim as a wave of nausea passed over her.

As she gulped in cold air to soothe her stomach, she felt a heavy blanket cover her bare backside, draping over her shoulders.  She did not have the energy to jump, and could only lightly moan, tilting her head to the side.  She felt two hands gently press into either shoulder, pulling her down to her back again.  Solas’ crisp voice filled her left ear. 

“Easy, Lethallan.  You should not be sitting up so quickly.  Lie back down, Da’len, that’s right.”

Ciara was forced to close her eyes as her sore muscles began to tremble at her sudden exertion, and she felt the throb of her heartbeat behind her eyes.  She began to feel uncomfortably warm, so she slid a bare leg out of either end of the heavy blanket covering her body.  Again, she heard Solas’ voice.

“It is cold tonight, Lethallan.  You should stay covered.”  A hand on either side of her tried to pull the fabric over her legs.  On her right side, the hand touched her calf, staying there a moment before retreating.

She tried to speak, but only a coarse croak was heard.

Cullen’s warm voice spoke gently above her.  “Solas, she feels very warm.  Maybe she’s running a fever?”

Ciara felt the presence to her left shift over her.  She wanted to open her eyes, to look at the bald elf that had become her mentor, to make sure her mind was not playing tricks on her, or that she was sleeping, but her eyes would not cooperate.  A long, thin hand was laid on her forehead, smoothing down her cheek.  It felt mercifully cool to her heated flesh.

“You are right, Commander.  Can you help me roll her toward you so that I might check her wounds?” 

Strong hands held her hip and shoulder, gently pulling her onto her right side.  She heard a soft jingle of metal as something slipped on her chest.  The nausea returned with the movement, making her head spin.  She moaned quietly, her left hand shooting out to grip anything in front of her to steady herself.  Her palm hit fabric on flesh, and she held on tightly, afraid that is she let go, her body would somehow fall from her already laying down position.

“I’m sorry, Herald.  I am trying to not hurt you.”  Cullen’s voice hit the shell of her ear, accompanied by his warm breath.  A large hand brushed her hair, before softly rubbing her exposed shoulder and arm, repeatedly.

Someone pulled the blanket from her shoulder and back, exposing her aching backside.  She felt shockingly cold fingers prod over tender areas.  If she had the energy to jump, the continuing touches would have made her fidget endlessly.  All she could manage was to moan again, leaning her head forward, against some part of Cullen in front of her.

Before too long, the hands retreated, covering her naked behind once more.  It was Solas who spoke.  “I do not think her wounds are infected, but I will be able to do a more thorough examination in the morning.”

She felt him shuffle toward her feet.  There was a soft sound and the movement near her ceased entirely.  “Stay with her, I will make her a tea to lower her fever and to fight any infection.  Keep her on her side.  I will make a poultice to put on her wounds, just in case.”

“Thank you, Solas.”  Cullen sounded above her.

She sensed and heard Cullen shuffle to lie down next to her.  He gently removed her hand from his clothing, holding it in his left hand as his right remained on her shoulder.  He seemed to be trying to calm her by touching her. 

She released his hand with hers and felt her way to his waist.  With as much strength as she could muster, she pulled them together.  The attempt was pitiful, at best, and neither of them moved an inch.  She sagged, groaning against the floor.

Cullen could tell what she was trying to do.  Although he was slightly uncomfortable, he knew that she needed the physical contact.  He shifted closer to her, lightly pressing his body to hers.  Remembering the places that Solas had told him was safe for him to touch, he wrapped his right hand around her waist and held her to him.  He was mindful of any discomfort, but she showed none, only pressing her forehead into his chest.  Her arm wrapped more firmly around his waist as they held each other.

Slowly, Ciara moved her head up, forcing her eyes to slit open.  She was rewarded with the warmest grin she could ever remember.  Cullen’s hand slid from her waist to her hair, and he stroked her softly, like an injured animal.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Ciara.”  His golden eyes narrowed with fondness, as his hand continued to brush her hair.

She opened her mouth a small amount, in an effort to speak, but the only thing she was given was a split lip for her effort.  Little more than a squeak was released from her throat as she tasted fresh blood.

Cullen reached above them, procuring a waterskin from a hook on the wall.  He uncorked it and gently tilted it to Ciara’s lips. 

“Easy now, try to drink a tiny bit.”

She allowed him to pour the preciously cold liquid into her mouth, swallowing greedily.  Her stomach lurched, threatening to undo her.  She leaned away from the bag of water, causing a line of water to pour down the side of her cheek and neck.

Cullen capped the bag and set it aside, he used the back of his hand to wipe the errant water from her face, wiping the excess on his leggings before replacing his hand on her hip.

As she willed her stomach to settle, Ciara was able to reopen her eyes and look up, into his.  She did not trust herself to try to speak again yet.  Instead, she released his waist and weakly dragged her hand up his body to his face.  With her forefinger, she slowly traced the scar on his upper lip, recalling it from memory to ensure that she was not dreaming.  His eyes widened slightly, but he remained still, allowing her to touch him. 

Finally satisfied that he was, in fact, Cullen, that she was alive and with him, she moved her hand to cup his cheek.  She stilled, her bright green eyes locked onto his golden yellow ones.

Cullen had to force his body to breathe regularly as she intimately touched his face.  He focused on the greenest eyes he had ever seen.  His heart broke a little when those eyes began to swim.  As the first heavy tear began to fall, and her lower lip quivered slightly, Cullen’s face fell to a frown.  He gently pulled her head to his chest, before pulling her arm down to his side again.  He held onto her shoulders, pressing her firmly into him, allowing her to cry into him.  She sobbed, weakly, and Cullen gently rested his cheek on her head, feeling wetness flood his own eyes.

* * *

 

Cullen heard a pair of approaching feet and quickly dried his eyes as Solas returned with Iron Bull.  The Qunari’s hands were full with a wooden goblet and a satchel. 

Solas viewed the pair, his eyes resting on Ciara’s lightly heaving shoulders.  With a heavy sigh, he clamored into the wagon behind her.  He motioned for Bull to hand him the cup, and moved to her head.

“Da’len, I need you to drink this.  It will ease your fever and help with any infections.  I do not have the supplies I need for a poultice, so this tea will have to do until we get back to Haven.”

It was all Ciara could to do shake her head, her face remaining pressed into Cullen’s tear-stained shirt.  She heard a gruff voice sound at her feet.

“Let me, I’ll get her to drink it.”

A very heavy weight rocked the wagon, and it tilted with his movements as he maneuvered his huge frame over the three others.  He squeezed his body between her head and the front of the wagon, kneeling above her.  Massive hands gently pulled her onto her back, and lifted her head onto his bent knees.

As she was moved, Ciara glanced up at the large man.  Her blurry eyes would not focus on the face, and all she saw was a darkened body with enormous horns.  Believing him to be a demon, her eyes widened and she tried to sit up, but those huge hands kept her lying down.  She whimpered, looking to Cullen for help.  He was looking at her with sadness.

He patted her shoulder.  “It’s ok Herald.  Bull is a friend of the Inquisition.  He’s just trying to help you.”

She wanted to believe him, but the vision she saw of the beast was terrifying to her.  Still, she trusted Cullen.  Willing her aching body to relax, she turned her head toward the unknown man.

“Are you done fussing now?  Good.  You’re going to drink all of this.  Do you understand?”  The deep voice fell to her ears.

She could barely nod, terrified.  Her wide eyes tried, and failed, to focus on the horned man.  The cup was positioned over her mouth and one of the huge hands coaxed her mouth open.  Liquid was poured into her mouth.  The taste was bitter, but had been mercifully sweetened with honey.  Elfroot and rashvine were prevalent in the flavors, so she knew it was a healing mixture. 

Ciara tried to swallow the liquid quickly, but her stripped and sore throat choked on the last bit of it.  The man’s hands pulled her into a sitting position to thump on an untouched area of her back, clearing her throat.  The sudden upright position caused her head to spin again, but she was quickly brought back down to the floor of the wagon.

“Good girl!  By the way, I’m The Iron Bull.  Nice to meet you!”  The huge man laughed raucously.

Solas spoke to the man.  “Iron Bull.  The Herald needs her rest.  She will have time to meet you tomorrow when she awakens.”

“I got it, I got it.  I’m out of here.”  The wagon shifted, nearly violently, as the man climbed off.  Heavy footsteps were easily heard retreating back to the camp.

* * *

 

Solas lay back down next to the still-sputtering woman.  “Forgive me, Da’len. It was imperative that you drink all of the tea.  It will help you rest some more.  When you wake up, you should feel much better.”

Ciara twisted to turn on her left side to face the mage.  Solas and Cullen aided her.

Cullen felt a bit rejected, until he felt her legs snake around and between his knees, holding him as tightly as she could.  Despite himself, he grinned.  He placed his hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently to acknowledge her touch.

Solas lay on his side, facing Ciara as she looked at him.  He gave her a similar grin that Cullen had when she had looked at him the first time, all warmth and emotion.  He reigned in the guilt in the back of his mind.  Right now, she needed comfort, not pity.  Ciara snaked her hands toward Solas, attempting to touch him.  He reached for her hands with his, resting them on the bedding between them.

Ciara looked at Solas.  She took in his bright blue eyes and the grin of his full lips.  She could feel tears burn at her eyes again.  Refusing to cry anymore, she closed her eyes and focused on the sounds and smells of the men surrounding her.  Within moments, their breathing and touches calmed her. 

Whether from the tea that Solas had produced for her, or the men’s presence, Ciara was pulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	17. Mission: Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After rescuing Ciara from the torturous Templars, everyone returns to Haven. Although Ciara is happy to be back, she has a nagging feeling that Cullen isn't fairing as well. She decides to ditch the escort Leliana stationed with her, and visit Cullen in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TY DeviantRhapsode and Dekannaibsel for being my Beta readers for this chapter! I'm trying to get back into the swing of things :) The next chapter will be coming very soon!

 

Ciara woke with the sun on her face, her world rocking to and fro, accompanied by the sounds of the wagon being driven on the roadway. She could hear the sounds of multiple horse hooves, and people chattering in clumps around her. The heat of the fever she suffered the previous night was missing, as well as the blinding headache caused by the head-butting she had received.

She risked opening her eyes, rapidly blinking against the blazing sun. As her vision became accustomed to the light, she could see clear blue above her, with wisps of clouds dotting the sky. A few birds fought for air space and the tops of trees lined her view on both sides.

“Good morning, Da’len.”

She tilted her head back to see Solas above her. He was sitting cross-legged, a book in his free arm. He was grinning down at her, the warmth in his gaze capturing her attention. She could not remember the clinical man ever looking so kind. He had always had a calm, patient demeanor with her, but that grin showed a new level to her mentor that she was unaware of.

Solas set the book down, and reached out to gently touch her forehead and cheek with the back of his hand. He hummed with approval, nodding his head.

“I am glad to see that the tea I made you last night has worked. Your fever is gone. Before we left for Haven this morning, Leliana and Cassandra took the opportunity to dress you, after I made sure your wounds were sufficiently healed. How are you feeling Lethallan?” He cocked his head at her.

Ciara slowly looked down at her body to see a large tuft of reddish brown fur. The heavy cloak smelled familiarly of Cullen. With Solas’ help, she sat up slowly, pulling the fabric away to reveal a simple tan tunic and matching leggings. Before she could respond, she heard a booming voice laughing to her side.

“I see someone finally decided to wake up!”

Ciara glanced to her right to see a ginormous man riding the largest warhorse she had ever seen. His gray skin did little to hide his impressive muscle tone. Her eyes were drawn to his head, however, as he had a huge set of horns at the top of his skull.

Suddenly reminiscing of her demonic vision the previous night, Ciara let out a small squeak as she pushed away from the one-eyed man, pressing against Solas’ surprisingly hard body.

He wrapped his free arm around the frightened woman, chuckling lightly.

“It is alright, Da’len! This is Iron Bull. He is a Qunari mercenary that now works for the Inquisition. He is a friend, despite his brutish people.”

Bull scoffed. “It seems we’re going to be good friends, Elf!” He laughed loudly at Solas before turning his gaze on Ciara with a beaming smile. “Nice to meet you. As your pointy-eared friend said, I am The Iron Bull, with a ‘The’ in the beginning, like a thing, not a person.”

“How very appropriate, seeing as that is how your race treats its people.” Solas sniped from over Ciara’s shoulder.

The huge man growled menacingly at Solas, and then returned his eyes to hers. “As I was saying, you may call me ‘Bull’ for short, if you must. Anyway, it was my men who rescued you last night. That was quite a sight! I’m surprised you’re even sitting up!” He laughed again, too loudly.

Ciara managed to murmur a response. “Well, I have had an amazing healer.”

The arm holding her tightened slightly. “Yes, well I have an amazing patient.” Solas chuckled into her ear.

Bull’s singular eye shone. “Ah! She speaks! Well, I have seen my share of injuries in my line of work, and healer aside, you should be dead. You’ve surprised me. That is hard to do, nowadays! I’m told you’re the only one who can close those demon portals. If that’s true, then we’re fortunate, indeed, that you live. Don’t worry, I will make sure this doesn’t happen, again!” With another loud laugh, he spurred his horse into a lope and left the pair staring at his broad back.

As Ciara turned to talk to Solas, she saw a familiar head of blonde hair bobbing toward her. Cullen trotted his horse up to the wagon, his golden eyes firmly set on hers. He had an odd look on his face. It seemed his mouth wanted to smile, but his brow held the normal frown he carried with him constantly.

Ciara took a deep breath in an attempt to clear her still foggy head. The rush of the cool morning air caused her to cough. As Solas gently thumped her back, she pressed a hand to her chest while bending her head down, away from Cullen’s intense stare. As soon as her hand landed on her chest, she felt a chain holding a small metal pendant around her neck.

As her coughing subsided, she was able to look at the necklace more closely. It was a figure of a robed woman. The necklace and pendant was made from silverite, and the figure was lined with various shining jewels. Ciara looked questioningly at the seemingly expensive object in her hand. She had no idea where it had come from, or who had placed it around her neck.

“Herald, I am glad to see that you are awake. How do you feel?” Cullen’s voice sounded to her side.

She looked over to see Cullen walking his horse beside the wagon, his eyes shifting between hers and the pendant that she still held in her hand at her throat.

Her mind wandered to the night she had spent with him in her room. Beyond the terror and exhaustion, the vague recollection of feeling a similar chain around his neck when she had placed her hand on his chest to calm him as he was in the throes of his nightmare. She gasped softly, realizing the necklace she now wore had once belonged to Cullen.

She swallowed the noise and forced a small smile to her face. “Good morning, Commander. I’m feeling much better than last night, that’s for sure.” Her voice still sounded weak, even to her.

Cullen’s perpetual frown softened slightly, as his own smile graced her with its presence. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, milady. I am sure that Solas has everything taken care of, but if there’s anything you require of me, please let me know. We should be back at Haven a short time before sun-down.”

Despite the smile, his overly-formal language took her aback. Ciara was forced to wonder if he still blamed himself for the events of the last few days. Allowing her own grin to falter, she continued to look into his golden eyes.

“Well, I could stand to get out of this wagon. The movement is making me a bit nauseous, anyway. You didn’t happen to bring Midnight with you, did you?”

Cullen was quick to notice her change in demeanor. As her smile faded, her large emerald eyes seemed to plead at him, making his heart ache. He was surprised that she seemed unfazed by the events of the last few days. The thought of what she had endured wiped this own smile from his face.

Pulling himself back to the present, he cleared his throat before answering her. “I apologize, Herald. I had not thought to bring your mount, forgive me.”

Frowning at him, Ciara pulled his cloak from around her body and held it out to him. “Well, I think I should return this to you. It seems that I’m using it more than you, nowadays.” She chuckled lightly.

Her comment made him grin. “Well, perhaps you should keep it then, milady.” He returned her chuckle with his own.

“Oh no, you look better in it, anyway.” Ciara sent him a daring look that she knew would draw a blush from the man.

It worked spectacularly. Cullen cleared his throat as he turned his gaze from her, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. His neck and cheeks turning crimson, he tried to hide the blush by pretending to look at the soldiers surrounding them.

As the heat in his face abated, he turned back to her and gently took the fur-lined cloak from her, his gloved hand brushing her bare one.

“I’m sorry if I got any blood on it.” Ciara apologized, honestly.

Cullen’s eyes darkened, looking down at the red fabric in his hand. In fact, he could see some dark reddish-brown stains that had not been there previously.

“Well, that is why I chose a cloak with this color. Not that I anticipated getting your blood on it…but my own…or other’s –“

Before he could embarrass himself with more stammering, Ciara rescued him with a laugh. “Cullen, relax. I get it. If it doesn’t wash out, I’ll have it replaced.”

His eyes shot back to hers. “No, Herald. That is not necessary. I’m sure it will be fine. Excuse me, please. I must talk to Sister Leliana about our next move.” He nodded to both of them. “Herald. Solas.” He abruptly turned his horse, trotting away from the two elves in the wagon.

His hand still resting on her back, Ciara could hear, as well as feel Solas chuckle behind her. She turned to face him. “What’s so funny, Solas?”

“You seem to like tormenting our Commander.” His blue eyes gleamed as his grin widened across his face.

She moved away from him, resting her back against the side of the wagon. Then she started laughing. “It’s hardly sporting, I know. It’s just so easy!” Her laugh faltered. “He still blames himself, and he shouldn’t. It was my decision. I pretty much ordered him to leave me there.”

Solas had moved across the wagon from her, their legs parallel to each other. He rested a long-fingered hand on her bare ankle, staring at her with a solemn look. “I know, Da’len. You told me to tell him not to blame himself. Unfortunately, for me as well as him, it is harder to accept that than just your word.”

Ciara’s eyes widened at his statement. “You saw what I said?”

“I did. Thank you for the words, but this is something that we will all have to work through on our own time, Cullen and yourself included.” He lifted her foot into his lap, gingerly pressing his fingers into her heel.

With a sigh, she let her head fall back against the wood behind her, suddenly embarrassed. “So you heard everything I said. Well, if you must know, I meant everything. None of it was either of your faults. All you both are guilty of is trying to help me.”

Solas continued to knead her foot, sighing deeply. “I would not worry about him, Lethallan. The Commander has been through much, and has come out relatively unscathed. I have little doubt that this will be any different.” He took her other leg into his lap, and continued his ministrations to her other foot. “We are equally as worried about you. How are you doing, Da’len?”

She continued to look up at the blue sky while she spoke. “I’m fine. Sore, but fine…surprisingly.” She then turned her eyes to him. “I had relinquished myself to the fact that I was going to die there, Solas. Now that I’m not…I don’t know. I’m glad. I have so much shit happening to me that it’s overwhelming at times, but I’m glad to be going through it, especially with the friends I find myself surrounded by.”

She offered him a small smile which he graciously accepted with his own.

* * *

 

As Cullen had predicted, the sun was just barely slipping behind the mountains surrounding Haven when the group made it back to town. Soldiers and civilians ran to greet the returning people, having gotten word from Josephine that the Herald of Andraste was returning, safe.

Ciara had moved to sit with the driver of the wagon. She felt heat flood her cheeks from the cheers and praises of the people. As they stopped, she slipped from the wagon, smiling and nodding at the people until she felt dizzy. She turned to see Solas moving off toward his room, while Cullen, Leliana, and Cassandra were huddled together, deep in chatter.

She worked her way to the stables, wanting to ensure herself that Midnight was fine. As she neared the barn, she could hear her ornery stallion neighing as he kicked his stall. He must have sensed her return.

After talking to Horse-master Dennet and paying minimal attention to her steed, she walked toward the Chantry. Leliana had told her that a hot bath would be awaiting her in a private room in the large building, for which she was eternally grateful. Though Cassandra and Leliana had tried to clean her from the worst of the caked on dirt and blood, Ciara still felt filthy from her ordeal.

As she made her way toward the center of town, two dwarves made their way to her. Ciara smiled widely as Varric sauntered toward her, Balkrinn beside him. She jogged up to the duo, throwing her arms around both men. Her hug was graciously returned by the strong men.

She was beyond thrilled to see that Varric was going to be okay. He even joked to her about how “women find men with scars sexy”.

As he showed off the scar to her, she felt a pang of guilt. He probably would have had a much smaller scar had she not burned him.

He could see the shadow cross over her face at the sight of his scar. He nudged her arm with a chuckle. “Hey now, don’t feel guilty, Torch! You saved my life with that little love tap!”

Ciara looked down at him with a sneer. “Torch? Really, Varric!”

He put both hands in the air, taking a step back. “Hey now, I could be talking about your red hair. Not that I’m admitting it either way!” He turned, threw an arm over Balkrinn’s shoulder and began walking away, laughing raucously.

The other dwarf looked over his shoulder at her with a smile. “I am glad to see that you made it back safely, milady!”

Even with Varric’s playful jab, Ciara found she could not remain angry at her new nickname with the loud laughing she heard from the dwarf. She smiled and waved off the retreating men with a sigh before continuing toward the town’s main hall.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the Chantry, Josephine enveloped her with questions and hugs. The voraciousness of the woman warmed Ciara’s heart, but she was so bone tired, all she could think of was the hot bath she was promised.

“Josephine, I promise you that I am fine! I’d be more than happy to fill you in tomorrow, after I get some much needed rest in an actual bed, and after my bath!” She was sure to tell her this with a smile and a light-hearted chuckle so that the diplomatic woman wouldn’t be offended.

Taking the cue, Josephine, reluctantly released her vice-grip on Ciara’s arm. “Of course, Herald! Forgive me, I…that is, everyone in the Inquisition is thrilled to see you back safely. Do you need a handmaiden to assist you with your bath?”

The question seemed ridiculous to her, so Ciara genuinely laughed. “Why would I need help to bathe myself? I am not a child, Josephine! All I need is time…and privacy.”

“I understand, milady. I am going to see to it that you are not disturbed.” She started to walk out of the heated washroom, into the bedroom she shared with Leliana in the Chantry. As she reached the door, she turned with a huge smile on her face. “If you need anything, just call out. I will have a soldier standing watch outside.”

Knowing that arguing against a guard would be pointless, and with a desperate desire to slip into the steaming bath beside her, Ciara allowed Josephine to close the door behind her before undressing.

She could hardly contain her excitement when Leliana had told her of this awaiting treat. Despite her aching back and painful shoulder, that she had refused to wear a sling for, she had nearly bounced around the wagon the remainder of their trip to Haven. Solas had to threaten to restrain her in order to convince her to sit still.

Stripping from the clothing Leliana and Cassandra had dressed her in this morning, she palmed the pendant around her neck. Ciara eagerly climbed into the steaming bathtub. Josephine had poured some floral smelling oil into the water, perhaps lavender.

The bathtub was enormous for the elf's small frame, and Ciara was easily able to submerge her entire body. Before she became too relaxed, she pulled her wavy red hair from its standard bun, combing the tangles away with the brush their earnest diplomat had loaned her. She carefully washed the grime and blood from her waist long hair before draping the wet mass over the edge of the tub to settle in for a soak. It was not long before the hot water and scent of flowers caused her to drift off to sleep, a lone hand cradling the pendant, and a smile on her face.

* * *

 

“Herald? It's time to wake up, milady.”

Ciara moaned softly before opening her eyes to see Josephine bending over her in the bathtub. The water had gone room temperature, and her once dripping hair was simply damp.

“How long was I asleep?” She managed to mumble to the Antivan woman.

Josephine chuckled, stepping away to retrieve a large towel from a nearby stool. “I don't know how long you slept, but I left you in here hours ago! I am guessing you enjoyed the bath?”

Ciara was handed the towel as she stepped from the bath, chuckling. “What gave that away?”

“Oh, the snoring that was heard from the other end of Haven, perhaps?” Josephine had the comb that Ciara had discarded, and was combing the elf's long locks while she dried herself. She eyed the new necklace around Ciara's throat and commented coyly, “What a beautiful pendant of Andraste! Where did you get that!?”

Ciara moved to pinch the olive skinned woman, but she was too quick and jumped sideways. “I don't snore! Not that loud, anyway! And as far as the necklace is concerned, I don't know. I woke up with it.”

Josephine looked somewhat disappointed, but then started laughing. “You do not snore? Tell that to Master Dennet in the stables!”

The women laughed together as Leliana poked her head into the bathing room. “Oh good, you're awake. Now you can go back to your room so we can sleep!” She said with a laugh.

Ciara stopped drying to look around. “Oh no, I forgot to bring a change of clothing!”

Josephine immediately dropped the comb and bounded to the dresser next to her bed. She pulled out a long green nightgown apparently made of silk, with a very low edging of matching lace. “Here you go! I have not had the opportunity to wear this yet, and I believe it will look better on you, anyway! You're a little shorter than me, but it should still fit fine enough for a nightgown.”

Ciara eyed the dress. “You can't be serious. You want me to wear that!?”

“Well, it's better than running back to your cabin naked, now is it?” Josephine sent her a daring look.

Leliana laughed, patting Ciara on the arm. “Do not tempt her, Herald. She _will_ make you run back naked. It would not be the first time she has done it!”

Telling herself that she simply had to make it back to her room before she could change into something more sensible, Ciara groaned loudly as she took the gown and slipped it over her head.

“Oh come on, Herald! You look beautiful! In fact, I think you should keep it!

“When would I ever wear this, other than extraordinary circumstances, such as now?” Ciara glared at the beaming women as she smoothed the silk down her body. There was a lace lined slit over her left leg that nearly reached her hip. The plunging neckline sat well below where the pendant lay, just above the curve of her breasts. A small amount lower, and it would have been scandalous, even in Orlais.

She realized that the room had gone silent, and looked up from her ensemble. Both women were staring at her, smiles beaming across their faces.

“What?” Ciara looked between them, her eyes wide.

Josephine was the first to respond. “You are truly beautiful, Herald! The gown matches your markings and eyes perfectly. And I didn't know you had such beautiful, long hair!”

Suddenly uncomfortable, Ciara could all but feel the blush creep up to the tips of her ears. “Uh, well, thank you. I should let you both get some sleep.” She started for the door.

Leliana escorted her to the doorway. As she opened it, a soldier stood at attention just outside. She lowered her voice in a way that seemed shockingly menacing. “See to it that our Herald makes it back to her room safely.”

“Yes ma'am!” He saluted her.

Ciara turned to face the two women. “Thank you, both of you. I'll see you in the morning!”

* * *

 

Having returned to her room, Ciara found herself pacing, unable to sleep. She could sense the soldier standing outside her room, and she suddenly felt like a prisoner all over again.

She had initially decided to change into some cotton pajamas, but during the walk to her room, the silk gliding over her body forced her to change her mind. It was a small luxury that she was unaccustomed to, but that did not mean she could not enjoy it from time to time.

Instead of relishing the soft fabric, however, she was mulling over Cullen's distant actions toward her earlier in the day. After their short conversation, he had all but avoided her. Ciara was beginning to wonder if this was the end of their friendship.

She just could not tolerate that. When they first met, they were nearly enemies, but over the course of the past several weeks, had become close. At least she thought so. Now, it seemed as if he had reverted back to “Commander” instead of “Cullen”.

She had to talk to him. Her sleep seemed to depend on it.

But how to get to him without being escorted by her guard? She did not want to embarrass him by pulling along one of his soldiers, who would undoubtedly hear everything through the walls of his tent. Their friendship was between them, not the rest of the Inquisition.

Her gaze landed on the window. Before she thought twice about it, Ciara launched herself out of the window. It was only after she quietly landed on the fresh snow that she berated herself for not at least grabbing a cloak to shield her from the cold.

Oh well, it was too late now.

Expertly sneaking around Haven, Ciara made her way toward Cullen's tent. The soldier's tents were darkened, Cullen's was no exception, the light of a lone candle shone from inside.

For a moment, she had second thoughts about confronting him about it in the middle of the night. Then she realized that this may be the only time she had to talk to him in private.

She tiptoed the rest of the way to his tent and spoke barely above a whisper. “Commander? Cullen, are you awake?”

Her sensitive ears could hear a faint rustling from inside and footsteps moved toward her. The ties to his tent were hastily undone and the flap of the doorway moved aside.

Ciara's eyes widened when she saw him for the first time, he had bathed and washed his hair. He was dressed in nothing but leggings, the blonde strands ran in loose curls on his head. It was enough to make her smile. “Well, I know why Varric calls you “Curly” now.” She chuckled quietly.

Cullen sighed heavily, swiftly running a hand through his untamed mane. “Herald. Is there something you needed in the middle of the night?”

Her smile quickly turned to a frown and she cleared her throat. “Commander, I need to talk to you, and it can't wait until the morning. May I come in, please?”

He immediately took a step back, pulling the flap open wide. “Of course, let me get more light.” He dropped the flap behind her as she stepped in.

He moved to the opposite end of the tent, toward the half dozen candles on his nightstand. Before he could move to light another, all five of the unlit ones burst aflame. He jumped back and spun to look at Ciara...and froze.

She was a vision to his aching eyes. Her red hair had been pulled from its bun and braided over her shoulder. Her green eyes and facial markings matched the dress that she wore. It was nearly floor length, but her entire left leg was exposed, showing smooth skin halfway up her body.

Surprisingly, the dress did not catch his attention the most, not that he did not notice. It was the pendant, lying above her rounded breasts, moving with her breathing, that captured his view. He was beyond proud to see that she decided to remain wearing it.

Her hand was outstretched toward the candles and she had a small smile on her face.

“I was waiting to do that.” She chuckled.

Cullen took a deep breath and tried to force himself to ignore her state of dress. “Herald, you shouldn't be out in the snow without a coat, at least”

She looked down at the gown and cursed. “Coming here was a rather last minute decision. It was too late to go back by the time I realized I didn't have any appropriate clothing on, sorry.”

“No need to apologize to me, I just do not want you to fall ill right after you return to us.”

Ciara sighed loudly. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Cullen's brow furrowed. “I'm sorry?”

“Ever since you rescued me, I feel like you've been distancing yourself from me. I know we didn't start out the best of friends, but I had thought we were closer now. When did you suddenly become the “Commander” again?”

“I was always the “Commander”! That is my job!” Cullen raised his voice, causing her to jump. He shook his head and returned his voice to its normal volume. “I am the Commander of the Inquisition's forces. It is my job to protect you, and everyone under me.” He turned his back to her, bending his head downward. “And I failed.”

Ciara took a step forward. “Is that was this is about? You _think_ you failed me? Cullen, I _forced_ you to leave! If you hadn't, all three of us would have been killed!” She placed a hand on his back. “You didn't fail me, Cullen. You saved my life, all of our lives.”

He twisted away from her. “I should not have allowed us to go out there alone. We should have had a full escort! You saying I am not to blame does not make it so!”

She took another step toward him, but did not touch him again. “Cullen, I will have to leave Haven many times. Most of those times, I won't be able to have thirty or forty soldiers following me around. I wouldn't allow it! I'm assuming Solas told you what he saw in the Fade?”

His head shook in the candlelight. “He told me what you are already saying, but it doesn't change anything.”

Ciara felt like she was fighting a losing battle. She knew he was a stubborn, hard-headed man. If he felt this way, she doubted there was anything she could do to ease his burden. She turned away from him and took a step toward the doorway.

“I just needed to tell you that it wasn't your fault, and that I'm okay. Whether you want to believe it or not is up to you.” She dropped her voice to just above a whisper. “I shouldn't have come here, but I didn't want to lose you.”

He spun on her words and was confronted with her back. He could barely make out the fine scars that Solas was continuing to work diligently to rid her of. Her head hung and he could see her arms wrapped tightly around her body. His mind was filled with the image of her bloody and beaten, and his heart ached.

He stepped toward her and place a hand on her bare shoulder, feeling her shudder beneath his palm. He spoke softly into her ear. “You didn't lose me, Ciara, I am still here. Just seeing you there, like that...I don't know if I could bear to see you like that again. I can't.”

He was so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. She reached up and grasped his hand, pulling his arm around her chest and resting his hand on her opposite shoulder, forcing him to step close behind her. She reached back with her free hand and took his other arm, wrapping it around her waist. Ciara leaned her body against his, closing her eyes as she tilted her head backward, resting against his chest.

“This makes me feel protected Cullen. Just you, here with me.” She murmured into the room.

Cullen had allowed her to move him, too exhausted to refuse. Now he stood behind her, allowing her to lean against him. At her words, he unconsciously tightened his grip around her, while pressing his cheek against the top of her head.

They stood still for several moments, just holding each other.

Finally, Ciara lowered her head and spoke quietly. “I'm going after the Templars first. I thought you should know. After I get their help, I'll try my best to convince the rebel mages that they should help us.”

Shocked, Cullen questioned her. “Even after what they put you through? You still want their help?”

She chuckled softly. “I thought you'd be happy! But yes, even after everything. Especially after everything. They're obviously in trouble, Cullen. They need our help! This “Elder One” seems to have them by the throat. If I can't save them from him, a lot of people are going to get hurt.”

“It seems like the mages are having to deal with the “Elder One” as well, however.” Cullen had not released his grip on her. He was unsure if he could, willingly.

Ciara nodded. “Yeah, but at least they seem somewhat stable. They are still acting friendly. The Templars have been given orders to capture me. That has to stop. Now.” She moved her head against his chest again, staring at the roof of his tent. “ I wanted you to know that I'm making this decision on my own, not because I'm pitying you, or anything.”

Finally, Cullen's chest rumbled against her back with a light chuckle. “Well, I'm glad that you do not pity me, at least.”

“Hey, any time.” She chuckled with him, hugging him to her, tightly.

She then stepped forward to the doorway, forcing Cullen to release her. Moving the flap of the tent aside, Ciara shuddered from the cold outside. She looked back at the man that had been holding her close. “Goodnight, Cullen.”

“Goodnight, Ciara.”

As she turned to leave, Cullen called out to her.

“Thank you.”

She smiled widely before turning and jogging off to her cabin, leaving Cullen alone, already missing the heat of her body against his.

 


	18. So Screwed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen deals with the aftermath of their closeness, while Solas surprises Ciara before she can do the same. Once alone, Ciara can relieve her own tensions... Later, Solas reflects on the evening's events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TY so much again Crystallyne and DeviantRhapsode for the amazing beta reading. Any writers out there would be lucky to have these gals read for them!

Cullen had mixed emotions as he watched Ciara leave his tent and listened to her soft footsteps retreat toward her cabin.  He had wished that she had stayed because his world seemed lighter when she was near.  At the same time, he was glad to see her go, due to the awkward tightness ever present in his leggings.

 He had surprised himself with the calmness he felt while holding the nearly naked elf to his body.  He could still feel her shoulders against his chest and the curve of her behind pressing into his upper thighs.  The recollection made Cullen groan out loud, as he wiped a large hand down his face, scratching at the two day old stubble gathering along his jawline.

 As his growing erection became too uncomfortable to bear, Cullen quickly strode to the opening in his tent and tied it shut.  He'd be damned if anyone was going to walk in on him now.  Quickly extinguishing all of the candles in the officer's tent, he climbed into his cot and under the protection of his heavy blankets. 

 Earlier, when he heard her voice softly call out to him, he had nearly thrown the fur-lined cloak he had been holding onto the nightstand to the side of his bed.  Cullen pulled the fabric back onto the cot with him, resting it on his chest.  The cloak definitely needed cleaning.  It was covered in road grime and bloodstains, but more importantly, it had absorbed Ciara's scent during the time she had been enveloped in it. 

 Cullen's erection became painfully hard as his senses were bombarded with the memory of his arms wrapped around the lithe Elf, as well as her lightly floral essence lingering in the air.  Groaning softly, Cullen shuffled out of his nightclothes.  Freeing his confined cock gave him much relief.

 His mind battled with the impropriety of relieving himself to such a religious figurehead as the Herald of Andraste, but he also reasoned that she was still Ciara, a small, tattooed, loudmouthed hell-raiser.  The thought caused him to grin as he instinctively wrapped his hand around his throbbing member, drawing a body-wide shudder.

 His eyes rolled back as he allowed his hand to grip himself tightly, dragging from base to head in an experimental, singular tug.  He couldn't control the thoughts running through his head of his hand being replaced with hers.  _Maker..._

 Cullen abandoned any negative thoughts of Ciara as he began to slowly pump his cock.  He pictured her as she had come to him.  She had nearly been naked, her handful sized breasts heaving slightly with her breath.  The color of the silk gown she wore being the same brilliant, deep shade of green that matched her wide eyes.  With his empty hand, he pulled the cloak closer to his face, breathing her scent deeply as he pictured her pressing her round ass against him. 

 He moved his hand faster as he imagined ripping the silk from her small body and bending her forward at that moment, taking her from behind.  He saw himself pushing his cock as far into her tightness as she could take.  As if his body was following his fantasy, the clear fluid at his head dripped down, causing his hand to slide effortlessly down his shaft, forcing a sharp gasp from his throat. 

 He could hear her moans and pants in his ears, mingling with his own, quieter ones.  His mind allowed him to envision his empty hand cupping her soft breasts, while his now moistened hand was pleasuring her while he rode her roughly.  He began to thrust up from his cot into his hand, emulating the action.

 As he felt the tightness in his sack increase and the tingling sensation build from the toes up, Cullen threw the blankets off of himself.  He pressed his empty hand just above his pummeling cock, instead feeling her ass pressed hard against his belly as he came deep into her hot, tight quim.  He shuddered in the throes of his orgasm as strings of warm liquid coated his hands and stomach.

 It took Cullen several minutes to calm his racing heart and lungs, coming down from his sexual high.  After a short time, he was rudely brought back to the present as a shiver went through him due to the rapidly chilling wetness of his seed and sweat.  He stumbled from his cot, his legs wobbling like a new fawn, to the washbasin on the other side of his tent. 

 As he cleaned himself, the realization of what he did struck him.  He had not touched himself in such a way for many years.  He was not one for seeking company in ladies of the evening, nor was he a man of random dalliances.  His sexual urges seemed to never be at the forefront of his mind, and the few times they had been, his training easily tamped them down.

 His mind wandered to the last woman he had felt any sort of intense sexual desire toward and his heart ached.  He had believed Valaina to be the love of his life, but after what had happened in the Ferelden Circle, he had pushed her away, never seeing her again. 

 He tried to see anything that connected the two women, but they were night and day.  Both were Elven mages, but the similarities ended there.  While Valaina had been quiet, calm and demure, Ciara was a sarcastic firebrand.  Valaina was barefaced, whereas Ciara had the elaborate facial tattoos of the Dalish.  Ciara's eyes were a brilliant green while...

 Cullen's own eyes went wide.  His mouth dropped open and his hands tightened on the washbasin, knuckles whitening nearly to the point of pain.  He desperately searched his recollection, trying to grab onto any reliable memory.

 He could not remember the color of her eyes!  The woman who had been his obsession for years, his first and only love!  When he tried restoring his memory with images of Valaina's face, he saw every one with brilliant green eyes belonging to Ciara.

  _I'm in so much trouble._

* * *

 

 Ciara felt lighthearted as she made her way from Cullen's tent back to her cabin.  The small grin he had awarded her as she was leaving was a positive indication that his wounded pride was on the mend.  He was clearly not over the whole ordeal yet, but she hoped that their chat had helped a little, at least.

 As she cautiously crept through the village, she was hopelessly drawn to the recollection of their embrace.  Her body began to respond, as she felt throbbing aches between her newly moistened thighs.  She paused in the shadows for a moment, closing her eyes and pressing a hand to her belly in a fruitless effort to calm herself.  She could not pull her mind from his strong arms enveloping her, the obvious bulge in his leggings pressing against her lower back, just above the swell of her ass.

 A pair of patrolling soldiers walking by drew her attention.  Ciara silently retreated deeper into the shadows, making herself as small as possible.  The men casually conversed with each other, never casting their eyes in the direction of her hiding spot.  She was able to quietly sigh as they left her alone, glad for the distraction from her memories.

 Knowing that Leliana would berate her if she were caught roaming the town in the middle of the night, especially without her escort, Ciara had to be especially careful getting back to her cabin unseen.  She turned her head to scan for any more soldiers, and her neck screamed in pain.  All of the tension she had been carrying since she awoke in the wagon must have accumulated in her upper body, as she began noticing her shoulders were also quite sore.

 Sneaking past the soldiers at the gate was easy, as she had discovered her innate ability to be stealthy while hunting out on the road.  It had actually taken quite a bit of convincing to get Cullen and Solas to leave her alone while she hunted for the three of them during her training.  Though at least once, she had been relatively certain that Solas had followed her, at least giving her a respectful distance to hunt.

Ciara let out a silent sigh, allowing her shoulders to sag as she looked to the stars.  _I'll be lucky if anyone lets me be alone, ever again._   She thought, before continuing.

 Peeking around the corner, Ciara was first surprised, then dismayed, to see that the soldier in charge of watching over her cabin had left.  She wondered if he had somehow discovered that she had sneaked out.  Perhaps it was their shift change and he left before his replacement had come.

 Looking around carefully to see if anyone was watching her approach, Ciara was partially glad that the man was gone.  With her sore neck and shoulders, climbing back through her window would have been interesting, if not impossible to do silently.  She quietly jogged to her door, carefully opened it, and slipped inside.

 Her back was to the room as she stealthily locked the door behind her.  She froze in fear as a shadow from the lone candle in her room crossed over her.  Closing her eyes, she bent her chin to her chest and sighed.  “I'm caught, aren't I?”

 “I would say so, Da'len.”

 Ciara spun to see Solas looking down at her amusingly.  He had a book in one hand, a finger holding the spot where he had left off reading, presumably waiting for her to return.  His smiling eyes then widened as he unashamedly took her in.

 She leaned back against the door, letting out a sigh of relief.  “Solas!  What are you doing here at such an hour?”

 He removed his finger from the book and set it down on her dresser before stepping toward her.  “I had been asleep.  I searched the Fade for you, but could not find you.  It worried me, so I came here.  After I saw that you were not in your room, I relieved the soldier watching your door.  I thought you might not want to explain yourself to him.” He gave her a sly grin.

 Ciara returned his grin with her own, before lowering her head to look at him through her lashes in the best attempt to feign innocence.  “So, are you going to tell on me, Hahren?”

 Solas reared back and laughed so loudly, it made Ciara jump.  He noticed when she cringed a small bit as her head jerked at the sound.  The sight made him smile even wider, showing his bright teeth.  His eyes darkened on hers as he closed in, within touching distance of her. 

 He brought his right hand up and cupped the back of her neck.  He sent healing magic into her, immediately drawing a soft moan from her lips.  Her eyes rolled back in their sockets as she lowered her lids, along with her entire head.  Solas stepped closer to her, gently pulling her head to his chest.  He tilted his dimpled chin to rest on the crown of her red wavy hair, as he began to massage the aches away.

 Ciara was helpless to move away, even if she had wanted to.  The warmth of Solas' hand, let alone the healing spell he pressed into her skin was intoxicating.  She hadn't realized how cold she had become out in the winter night, until she was pressed against the fire that was Solas' firm body.  She practically purred when Solas raised his other hand and began kneading her aching shoulders.  Simply standing was getting difficult for her to do as she was being lulled to a semi-consciousness by his touch, so she reached around his back with both of her hands and grasped fist fulls of the clothing covering his back.

Solas instinctively stilled as he felt her small, cold hands press against his back, pulling on his tunic gently.  He could feel her body lightly shivering against his, making him groan inwardly as he fought to control himself.  Her breasts gently rubbed against his chest in rhythm with his massage.  He had to force himself to relax as he felt the knots in her muscles melt away at his experienced touch. 

After several minutes of relinquishing herself to his ministrations, Ciara tested her muscles by slowly tilting her head back to look up at Solas.  She was shocked to see his bright blue eyes seem to glow in the candlelight of the small room.  Suddenly self-conscious about their close proximity, she cleared her throat and leaned away from him, against the door.

 He allowed her to slip from his grasp, but did not give her any more room, remaining where he was standing.  The light from the candle danced in her wide eyes as they locked onto his.  He could smell the fragrance of lavender on her smooth skin.  Another, more faint smell, assaulted his senses, and he bit back a growl.

 He leaned closer to her, never breaking his gaze.  “Where were you tonight, Da'len?” 

 Ciara could not help beginning to feel like she had suddenly become prey, and she was trapped.  Her heart started to race, and she pressed her body against the wooden door behind her. 

  _This is ridiculous.  Why am I suddenly afraid of Solas, of all people?_ She thought as she forced her breath to remain at a steady pace before responding.  “I had to make sure Cullen was alright.  I couldn't bear being the cause of his self-loathing.”  She paused for a moment, judging his reaction.  “Or yours.”

 Solas chuckled darkly at her.  He leaned forward, pressing his right hand against the door behind her, but leaving the other at his side, allowing her to escape…if she wanted to.  He lowered his voice and spoke softly.  “With your training, I am certain that your indomitable will could endure that, and much more, Da'len.”

 Ciara grinned, tilting her head at the man.  “Indomitable will?”

 He returned her grin, moving within inches of her, nearly daring her to bolt.  He lowered his voice even more, so that his response came out more like a growl than casual conversation. “Presumably.  Even with all that you have been through in such a short time, I have yet to see it dominated.  I imagine the sight would be...fascinating.”

 Ciara rarely chose to flee when faced with a danger, but she was close to it now.  Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, she forced herself to chuckle, terrified when her voice shook slightly.  She firmly pressed a hand against his solid chest and pushed gently until he relented and stepped backward, into the room. 

 Insisting that she was not going to lose this particular battle, Ciara stepped forward with the retreating man.  Feeling a surge of pride as Solas' face changed to reveal shock, she raised an eyebrow and smiled salaciously, chuckling. 

 “Is that the only thing you find fascinating about me, Hahren?”

 Solas ceased his retreat so quickly, that Ciara collided with him.  While he was able to reign in his surprise at her sudden strength, he was forced to reflect on the time they had spent together.  He slowly shook his head at this rapid change of events.  Closing his eyes, he laid a hand over hers on his chest.

 “Not even close, Lethallan.”

 Before she could even take in his response, Solas stepped around her and moved to the door.  As he opened it, he looked back at her.  She was disturbed that his face had a sudden forlorn look on it, making him appear much older than she had seen him before.  He gave her a sad smile while averting his gaze from her widened eyes.

 “I will call upon one of the soldiers to watch your cabin.  No more wandering in the night, Da'len.  Do try to get some sleep.  We have a long road ahead of us, after-all.”

 And he was gone.

 Ciara stared at the closed door for a few moments, her mind refusing to adjust to the sudden change in atmosphere. 

 She stepped to the door, casually locking it behind Solas, before returning to her bed and falling into it, face first.  She groaned into the pillow as loudly as she dared.  Drawing herself to her knees, she pulled down the heavy blankets and crawled beneath them, hauling them to her chin, while staring at the ceiling. 

 She frowned as she tried to wrap her head around the night's events.  The somewhat pleasant tension she felt in Cullen's tent was amplified by Solas' sudden intensity in her cabin.  It was enough to make her head spin.

 At the same time, she was having an increasingly difficult time ignoring the throbbing ache between her thighs.  Her body was still reacting to her interaction with both men, as well as the silken nightgown brushing against her otherwise naked body. 

 She grinned at the sensation.  Josephine had annoyed her when she practically forced her to wear the garment, but Ciara was going to have to thank her in the morning.  She had intended to change into her cotton nightclothes, but the luxurious feeling of the feather-light material floating along her bare skin made her purr loudly.

 As she wriggled in her bed, enjoying the new-found sensations, her hands began instinctively ghosting across her belly, causing her muscles to dance beneath her fingers.  The ache at the apex of her thighs increased into a throbbing that matched her increasing heart rate.

 Her leg slid out of the slit in the gown, causing the fabric between her legs to fall, brushing against her bare mound.  The feeling forced a small gasp from Ciara's lips, as her body tensed deliciously against the assault. 

 Her mind wandered back to Cullen's tent, his dense frame pressed against her back, muscular arms wrapped around her body.  She could still feel his racing heart pound, nearly massaging her upper back as she leaned into his embrace.  Her hands moved to where Cullen's had been, before moving in opposite directions. 

 One hand brushed her hardening nipple, drawing a low moan from her throat.  She easily slid a slender hand under the fabric, gasping at the cold her hands still held from the mountain air.  Relishing the sensation, she could feel Cullen's strong hand on her breast instead of her own, gently squeezing and pulling at her erect tip.

 She allowed her eyes to fall shut.  Her lips opened to allow the shallow pant to build as her free hand drifted down her toned body, gently pressing over the mound between her thighs.  Teasing herself, she ran her fingers across the moistening silk, causing shivers to run throughout her body.  When she could not bear it any longer, she slipped her hand through the slit in the gown, pressing more firmly into her naked flesh.

 Ciara pushed two fingers between her lips, quickly brushing her clit.  Her other hand instantly clamped around her nipple, both sensations sending her keening.  Panting faster, she slid her hand lower, now wet fingers tracing the opening of her womanhood while her palm pressed into her sensitive nub.  With a desire to soothe the ache between her legs, she slid a single finger into her sopping wet hole.  Instantly knowing this was not enough, she quickly added a second digit, pushing far into her entrance.

 She licked her drying lips as her hands began to move together, twisting and tugging on first one nipple, before tracing across her bath oil-softened skin to her lonely breast, repeating the movements.  At the same time, she began to plunge her fingers faster, grinding her palm into her clit harder.

She needed no help envisioning Cullen's hands on her, as she used the friction of the bed beneath her to feel Cullen's hard body pressing into hers.  She could feel his hot breath on her neck, the stubble on his face scratching her cheek as his voice filled her ear, sounding as thick as the same honey his heavily-lidded eyes were colored.

 She felt her climax coming quickly as her breaths came rapidly, not-so-soft moans filling the air above her bed.  Her hips rose from the mattress to meet her thrusting hand as her abused nipples sang with delicious pleasure-pain.

 Behind her eyelids, she saw Cullen pressed against her, grinding his hard cock between the cheeks of her ass.  She imagined how he tasted as he bent his head to thrust his tongue between her willing lips.  She could feel his hands, then his tongue between her thighs, pushing deeper into her depths, drawing lewd, wet sounds into the air.

 She felt a tingle at the base of her spine and a fullness in her belly.  In her mind, she looked down to watch Cullen's hand disappearing between her thighs.  To her shock, she instead saw Solas' deep blue eyes staring up at her, his mouth plastered to her cunt. 

 The vision sent her over the edge, stars exploding at the edges of her vision as she repeatedly cried out loudly.  Scared her cries would draw unwanted attention, she removed her hand from her breast.  She quickly pressed the meat of her palm between her teeth and bit down hard enough to taste blood, her other hand still a flurry of movement as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

 Her hand slowed, then stilled as she eventually regained composure.  As Ciara's breath began to return to normal, her eyes opened, staring at the ceiling of her darkened room.  She looked at the tooth-marked wound on her hand and sighed.  Throwing back the blankets, she willed herself to climb out of the bed, her legs nearly giving out beneath her.

 Crossing the room to the washbasin, she used some fresh water to rinse the blood from her hand and mouth.  After bandaging her palm, she trudged back to her bed and burrowed beneath the warm covers.

 Her mind could not stop racing after her release.  As she stared at the ceiling, she shook her head gently.  She knew there had been a growing fondness between her and Cullen. The sudden sexuality that Solas pushed onto her made her emotions shift back and forth until she was dizzy. 

 Rolling onto her belly, she pressed her face into her pillows and groaned loudly.  Being exhausted to start with, she gratefully felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.  She had a final thought before falling into the Fade. 

  _Oh, I'm so screwed._

* * *

 

 Outside, leaning against Ciara's cabin, the bald elf held his blue eyes closed.  He willed his heart to cease its hammering and his breath to return to normal.  Shaking his head, he cast his gaze to the stars above, before pushing off of the wood at his back and running.  He was unsure if he was running toward the woods, or away from the sounds coming from her room.

 Solas had not meant to spy on such a personal act.  He needed a moment to collect himself after losing much of his self-control.  But as he tried to reign in his emotions, the telltale sounds of pleasure wafted on the breeze to his sensitive ears.  Unable to force himself away, he had pressed himself against the wall and listened to the crescendo of moans, cries, and gasps.

 He had not heard her call a name, but he felt certain her attentions were on the blonde Commander, and not himself.  He growled, thinking of her imagining the human instead of him.  What did she see in him?  He was a broken ex-Templar, while he was so much more.

 Skidding to a halt, breath heaving, Solas pressed his back to a tree and slid down to the ground.  He relished the pain of the bark scraping across his back as it aided in clearing his head.  Once again, he cast his eyes to the heavens as his lungs burned and sweat poured down his pale face. 

  _What am I doing?  Why should I care who she is interested in?_

 He had not lied.  Not that time.  He had searched the Fade for her, wishing to see if she were recovering from her ordeal, or if her dreams were plagued by her torture.  When he could not find her, he had forced himself awake and went to her cabin, assuming that she was unable to sleep. 

 Finding her room empty, her window open to the cold air, he had sent the exhausted looking soldier away, with a promise of staying with her until the man's replacement arrived.  After the soldier had left, Solas had wandered Haven looking for her.  He was unable to help the feeling of anxiety welling within him, hoping that she had not run away. 

He was easily able to track her footsteps in the snow, following her to the soldier's camp, and to Cullen's tent.  The image of their entwined shadow being cast against Cullen's tent wall had enraged him.  It had taken no small amount of will to keep from storming the room, throwing the small woman over his shoulder and carrying her back to her room, kicking and screaming.

After taking several deep breaths, he had forced his gaze away and slunk back to her cabin, settling in the chair next to her bed.  While he waited for her to return, he picked up the book on her nightstand.  Noticing it was Master Tethras' romance serial, he curiously thumbed through the pages.

He was glad to see that she had returned to her cabin sooner, rather than later.  But the scent of the man on her skin lit the flame within him.

Dragging himself back to the present, he cringed with the memory of his advances.  He had no right to interfere with her sex life.  If she wished to see the man, why should it matter to him?  It was not like he had anything to offer the lithe woman.

Solas growled loudly, scrambling to his feet.  He began pacing the woods, angrily mumbling to himself.  “I am not a pup any longer!  Why am I acting like a lustful teenager?”  He stopped and sighed, pressing his hands to his face. 

_What is she doing to me?_

Removing his hands, he looked across the lake toward the village.  Toward her.  He sighed heavily again before starting his trudge back to his cabin.  As he brooded, slowly making his way toward the small town, his treasonous mind wandered toward the feeling of her body in his arms, the smile on her lips, the glint in her eyes.

_This will not end well._


	19. Decisions Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her tension-filled evening with Cullen and Solas, Ciara awakes ready for action. Many decisions are made, and not everyone is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so very long to update! Now that I'm solidly moved into my new home, hopefully I'll be updating much more frequently! I thank all of you for your incredible patience!

Ciara was quick to cover her eyes from the blinding light that suddenly hit her face. With a grumble, she rolled onto her stomach, throwing the covers over her head, enveloping her in darkness once more. She was about to fall back into blissful slumber, when her sensitive ears picked up the tiniest sounds moving around her cabin.

Someone was in her room.

She eased a hand beneath her pillow, where she kept one of her daggers. Silently wrapping her hand around the hilt, she listened as the quiet footsteps neared her bed. When the intruder seemed to be within striking distance, Ciara coiled her muscles and sprang from beneath the covers. She found herself face to face with the Elven servant woman who had awoken her the first time in Haven after her attempt to close the Breach. Her dagger was a hair's width away from the girl's jugular vein.

Immediately, the tiny Elf's huge eyes burst into tears as she collapsed onto the floor, the pile of laundry spilling from her arms. Her incoherent babbling slowed to a shrill rant, while Ciara stared at the top of her head with a quizzical look.

“I'm so sorry ma'am! I didn't mean to awaken you! I beg you, please don't punish me too harshly!”

Ciara took a few steadying breaths, before realizing she was still holding the curved dagger in her hand, pointed at the poor girl's bobbing throat. She quickly tossed the blade on her mussed bed before kneeling on the floor next to the sobbing servant. As she gently placed an open palm on her quivering shoulder, the girl jumped back.

The servant pressed her hands to her face, backpedaled away from Ciara as quickly as her tiny legs would go. She scrambled toward the door, not sparing a single glance backward, as she bolted from the room.

Ciara could hear the girls cries fleeing from her cabin. She stayed kneeling on the ground, her arm outstretched, staring at the open doorway. Her eyes remained wide open, while her mouth worked furiously to come up with something to say.

“I'm...sorry?”

A short shadow passed in front of her door, as Varric's head peeked from around the corner. He looked at Ciara on the floor, turned his head to watch the hysterically fleeing girl, then back at the confused Herald. A rich laughter spilled from his lips as he stepped into the room.

“Making friends everywhere you go, I see! If you terrorize poor servant girls that badly, I can't wait to see how our enemies fare.” Varric reached down, taking Ciara's still outstretched hand, helping her to her feet.

The man's sudden appearance brought Ciara to her senses, and she chuckled lightly at his infectious words. Turning to her bed, she picked up her dagger, reached beneath her pillow and re-sheathed the weapon, setting it on the dresser with its twin. “I don't know what happened, Varric. I heard someone moving around my room and I just let my instincts take over.” She slumped back onto her bed, resting her head in her hands.

“And your instincts were to cut the throat of an innocent servant girl? That's a bit harsh, isn't it?” He sat beside her, heavily.

Ciara rubbed her hands down her face, wiping the little remainder of sleep from her eyes. “I didn't mean to scare her. I didn't know it was her. With everything that's gone on recently, I -”

“I understand, Torch. Really, I do.” He put a large hand on her shoulder, enticing her to look into his eyes. “You've been through more in the last several weeks than most people deal with in a lifetime. And you have a ways to go yet!”

He laughed loudly again, patting her on the back before getting up and heading toward the door. “I'll just take care if I have to wake you up in the morning! I should probably warn the others too.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Except maybe the Seeker.” He turned to face Ciara, who was still sitting on the bed, watching him. “Oh, by the way, they're already in their daily meeting in the Chantry. You should probably go see them.”

Who? Ciara's foggy mind failed to keep up.

Varric chuckled. “Why, your advisers, of course!” He pointed at her chest, sliding his hand up and down. “You might wanna change from...that, first.”

Ciara looked down, realizing she was still dressed in the emerald silk gown from the night before. Looking back at the Dwarf, she chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I probably should. I wouldn't want to give Cassandra a heart attack!”

He gave her a sly look. “Or Curly.”

Before Ciara could respond with a furious blush, Varric turned and quickly left her alone to dress.

It was well into mid-morning before Ciara left her cabin. Stepping through the doorway, she blinked furiously at the bright sun above, as well as the light being reflected off of the snow-covered ground. While her eyes adjusted, she casually made her way to the Chantry, smiling and nodding to the various people wishing her a pleasant day. The shear number of people bowing to her made her uneasy.

As she stepped into the Chantry, a tall, dark-skinned woman in an elaborate, horned headdress and robes walked up to her. If Ciara had to describe her in one word, she would have chosen “eloquent”. The woman was all subtle smiles as she stopped in front of her, giving an exaggerated bow.

“The Herald of Andraste. My name is Imperial Enchanter Vivienne, some call me Madame de Fer, but you may call me Vivienne.”

Ciara was unsure of what to do, so she gave a hesitant bow to the woman. “Pleased to meet you, Vivienne.” With a small grin, she started to walk toward the war room once more, while the woman effortlessly slid in beside her.

“It is my pleasure to finally meet you, Herald. I come from the circle at Montsimmard, or did, before the circles foolishly disbanded.”

Ciara could easily hear the thinly veiled venom in her voice. She continued walking, but angled her head up to look at Vivienne's flawlessly angular face. “Well, I'm sorry to hear that...I think. What can I do for you, Vivienne?”

Flashing a small grin, the woman looked down at her while scarcely lowering her face. “Oh my dear, it is what I can do for you. As I'm sure you're well aware, the world is in complete turmoil. I have come to offer my aid. I wish to see all of this foolishness put to rest as quickly as possible. The mages must return to the circles, and the Templars must be reminded of their sworn duties.”

They had reached the door to the war room, and she could already hear the arguing voices beyond, so Ciara stopped with a sigh and turned to the much taller woman. “I'm sorry Vivienne, but we'll have to discuss this another time. I have a meeting that I am already late for, I'm sure you understand.”

The ebony-skinned woman held her gaze for a moment, then grinned and bowed her head. “Of course, my dear! I would be remiss to keep you from your appointment. I will not keep you any further.” Affording her one final glance, Vivienne turned on a heel and strode back down the Chantry hallway.

Ciara watched the woman walk away for a moment before shaking her head and turning back to the door. Without knocking, she pushed the heavy door inward, effectively silencing the four in the room beyond.

As soon as she pushed the door open, her eyes locked with Cullen's. She noticed a pink blush creep along his cheeks as he nodded his greeting to her before casually averting his gaze toward the map in front of him. She hoped that her own blush was not as noticeable, especially since she did not have the luxury of ignoring the other three women in the room.

Forcing her breath to remain steady, she turned her sight to the women, smiling to each in turn. As she looked at Leliana, she felt certain the spymaster was aware of her nighttime excursion around the village. She quickly looked away from her steely gaze, toward the large map on the table in the middle of the room.

After everyone accepted her into their conversation, Leliana was the first to speak up. She had both palms on the war table, but her hardened look was cast on Cullen. “I still think it is a mistake to go after the Templars. Especially after what they did. They attacked a key member of the Inquisition without provocation!”

“And I still believe that the group who captured the Herald was a rogue group! A small faction led astray from their duties and vows!” Cullen's blush melted into the redness of rage he was beginning to feel. He leaned over the table, toward the equally angry spymaster. “The mages have already fallen to a Tevinter cult! We shouldn't waste our resources and go to war with a group that we have absolutely no chance of winning against!”

It was obvious that Leliana had no want to back down. “That is precisely why we should go to the mages! I know them! Most of them would not start a war to leave the Circles, just to be enslaved to Tevinter! If we quickly and quietly take out the mages influenced by this so called “Venatori” group, the rest would be grateful to help us with the Breach.”

Ciara could already see Cullen gearing up for a response, so she stepped in. “With the way you two bicker, you could pass for siblings or lovers! That Venatori group wants my head, the rogue Templars want my head. Since it is _my_ head they want, shouldn't I get some sort of say-so?”

Cullen huffed as he stood straight, returning his hands to the pommel of his sword. He kept his eyes on Leliana, as she was staring at him, as well.

Cassandra did the opposite, leaning over the table, but she turned her eyes to Ciara. “You are right, Herald. You should have a say, especially since we have little chance of finding a resolution by ourselves. What would you have us do?”

Suddenly Ciara could feel all eyes in the room on her. The weight of expectation heavy on her shoulders. She forced a deep breath, keeping her sights on the map.

“I think we should go get the Templars.”

It was clearly not the answer that Leliana was expecting. She looked visibly shocked. “How can you say that after what they did to you!”

Ciara expected the outburst and cut in immediately. “I don't _like_ that they captured and tortured me, but between the two groups, we're much more likely to succeed getting the help from the Templars than the mages.” She looked Leliana dead in the eyes. “Believe me, if I felt we had a better chance with the mages, I'd choose to get their help, but if they're enslaved to Tevinter, I really wouldn't want to go to war with a whole country just yet!”

For a moment, Leliana looked as if she was going to rebut the argument. Instead, she closed her eyes, letting out a long breath. “You are right. As much as I despise abandoning the mages to Tevinter, I fear that it may already be too late to save them.” She hung her head, lowering her voice in the process. “Very well, we will approach the Templars for aid.”

Ciara suddenly felt regretful for her decision, even though she firmly believed it to be the right one. She leaned over and placed a hand on the woman's arm. “If you have any friends with the rebel mages, try to get in contact with them and let them know we will welcome them with open arms if they wish to seek amnesty from Tevinter. But do it quietly, I don't want to start a war. Assure them that even though we are asking the Templars for help, everyone is free within the Inquisition, even if I have to protect them with my own blood.”

“I will. Thank you, Herald.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ciara saw Cullen's hanging head shoot up to look at her as she spoke. She did not have to be looking directly at him to see the angry glare on his face. Casually, she turned her head to return his stare. For a few intense moments, the two locked their eyes. Cullen seemed to be doing his best to portray his anger about her decision to invite errant mages, while Ciara's gaze was an attempt at calming him, while not backing down from her decision.

A short time later, she was startled back into the present by Josephine clearing her throat. While Cullen returned his silent stare to the map in front of him, Ciara's eyes flew to the elegantly adorned woman.

Josephine simply smiled apologetically, before verbally breaking the remaining tension. “Well it would seem that fortune is with us. Due to your work in the Hinterlands, and your reputation for being able to close rifts, many noblemen and women are clamoring to meet you. This has garnered the attention of the Lord Seeker, who, it seems, has personally taken charge of the Templar group. He has extended an invitation to you at your earliest convenience. He has asked for your presence at Therinfall Redoubt.”

“Trap.” Cullen and Leliana voiced simultaneously.

“I did not know that they are using Therinfall Redoubt as a base, but it is odd. That keep has been abandoned for a long time now. I wonder why the Lord Seeker would choose to take the Templars there.” Cassandra leaned over the map even more to study a specific section closely.

Ciara sighed deeply. “Of course it's a trap, but it's refreshing that you two finally agree on something! That doesn't mean I can't go, it just means I should be more prepared.” She looked at Leliana. “Have your spies seen anything unusual in the area?”

“As a matter of fact, several of my scouts have reported many Templars going into Therinfall Redoubt, but none coming out. Strange lights and sounds have been coming from the keep for a while now, but the only spies that have gotten close enough to know what is going on...have disappeared.”

Ciara watched as Leliana furrowed her brow in a move that made her believe the spymaster felt deeply for her people. She reached over and laid an open palm on the woman's shoulder. “I know your scouts are putting themselves in danger out there. Hopefully, they won't have to much longer.” She removed her hand and placed it on the map, near the keep. “I'm not going to lie and say that I'm not going there without a bone to pick with these people, but I have to set that aside right now. If I lose track of what's important, we could lose everything.”

“That is a very mature thing to say, particularly after your recent experience with the Templar Order.” Josephine waved a plumed pen in the direction of the map. “We will use your contacts with the nobles in the area to bring an envoy to Therinfall Redoubt. Leliana has said that the Lord Seeker has political aspirations, and will be unable to help himself from inviting you into the keep for negotiations.”

Ciara nodded at her political advisor. “Well, that's our in, then. I don't want to take a huge group with me. If I do, he might sense that I'm on to him. I'll probably just take Cassandra, Solas, and Iron Bull. I want to see what that beast of a man can do first-hand. I want to get over there as soon as possible.”

Cullen cleared his throat loudly. “If you are going into the Templar stronghold, I would go with you. I may know many of the men and women in there. If they are hesitant about helping the Inquisition, it may be beneficial to see one of their own at the head of the troops.”

Ciara looked at him with sorrow on her face. While she replied, she shook her head. “No, Cullen, and for many reasons. We need you here to train our ever-expanding army. I will also need you to head that army if something were to happen to us in there. I have a bunch of other reasons, but just please trust me, you're more needed here.”

He looked worried, but his voice sounded firm, as usual. “Well, I can not say that I approve, but I do trust you.”

There was a laden silence as the pair eyed each other. Eventually, Leliana broke the quiet. “Well then, we apparently have some organizing to do before your group heads out. It is already nearly mid day now, I would suggest riding out first thing in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan. Is there anything else?”

“Nothing that we cannot take care of ourselves, Herald. Do enjoy the rest of your day!” Josephine's heavy accent lilted across the table at her with a smile.

As Ciara was walking away from the war room, she heard Cullen's unmistakable boots quickly walking up behind her. With a heavy sigh, she stopped and turned toward him. She could see the anger in his eyes as he stared back at her, heading directly to her.

“Look Cullen - “

Without a word, Cullen gripped her upper arm just tight enough to mean business, and pulled her toward the outer Chantry doors. He shoved one heavy oak door open with little fuss and towed the sputtering elf behind him and around the side of the building where they had first made peace.

He suddenly stopped, swinging the woman around in front of himself, before gripping her other arm with his free hand and staring into her shocked face. “Ok, now what are the “many other reasons” you spoke of?”

Ciara stood slack-jawed for a moment before shaking herself out of his grip with a growl. “Is that why you pulled me through the Chantry like a savage making off with a conquest? You're angry about what I said?”

She stepped into his space, poking him in the shoulder where his plate armor was not covering him. “Why do you want to go, really? You know your job is here, and you've never demanded to go anywhere with me before, so why now?”

Cullen brushed her invading finger away before nearly shouting at her. “You know damn well why I want to go!”

“I think you need to remind me, because I'm just a little confused right now!” She shouted back at him.

He huffed a breath, closing his eyes in a visible attempt to calm himself. Several moments passed before he seemed to deflate slightly. Cullen slowly opened his eyes, shocking Ciara in the contrast from his earlier rage. He spoke slower, and much softer. “I saw what they did to you. I left you there, and they...tortured you! I will not have that done to you again.”

He stepped forward once, nearly touching her panting body with his, as his darkened eyes stared directly into her brilliant ones. “I can not.”

Ciara gawked at him for a moment before dropping her face and turning away from him, shaking her head. She sat down on the same boulder she had the first time they were there.

Letting out a sour chuckle, she finally returned her gaze to Cullen. “So that's what this is about? You feel guilty about what happened? Oh Cullen.” She turned her face from him again.

“You are as responsible for what happened to me, as you are responsible for the Breach. And unless I'm mistaken, you're not.” She sighed heavily and patted the rock next to her. “Come, sit.”

Cullen hesitated, his eyes fleeting from her hand on the rock, and her face. Finally, he seemed to pull himself up again and strode over to her, accepting her offer to sit next to her. He stared straight again, careful to not directly touch her body with his.

Ciara noticed his frigidity and openly chuckled, before shuffling next to him, solidly pressing against his side. She nearly laughed as she felt his muscles stiffen like the rock they sat on.

He turned his head just enough to glance at her out of the corner of his vision. “You enjoy making me uncomfortable, don't you?”

Ciara leaned away from him, staring up at him with a shocked expression, her hand laid across her chest. “Me? Enjoy making you uncomfortable?” Her face dissolved into a huge grin as she bounced back into his side, chuckling. “Of course I do!”

She felt his body rumble while his head shook side to side, and was relieved that he seemed to relax afterwards. Ciara took a deep breath and leaned back against the boulder, nearly laying down. She waited for a couple of moments until it was clear that Cullen was not going to lay down next to her.

“I didn't want to say anything else in front of the girls, but there are more concerns I'd have if you went with me to Therinfall Redoubt.”

Cullen twisted his body to look at her. “I figured as much. Do you want to tell me?”

“I don't _want_ to tell you. I don't want to hurt your feelings, or make you feel like I don't trust you, especially since I do, very much!”

“I believe you, Herald. I want you to tell me, if you are willing.” He reached down with a hand and leaned down on it, casting a shadow over Ciara's body.

It took her a second to realize he made himself more uncomfortable, for the sole purpose of shading her from the blinding sun. “Thanks.” She chuckled at him.

“Any time.”

Ciara heaved a sigh, furrowing her brow while being unable to look at him in the eye. “You said that they might be glad to see a fellow Templar in control of the Inquisition's forces, but you quit the Templars, Cullen. They could just as easily see you as a deserter in wartime. I can't risk it, sorry.”

Cullen hummed in thought, staring at a spot in the stone over her shoulder. “I suppose I can understand that.” He glanced back at her turned face and frowned. “There is more, isn't there?”

“Not much gets past you, huh?” Turning toward him, she forced a sad grin. “I know what happened to me upset you. I don't want to feel like you're watching every move I make, and I don't want the Templars thinking they got the best of my Commander, if he hovers over me like an overprotective parent.”

He sat up suddenly, facing forward once more. “You think I would not be able to do my job, is that it?”

Ciara quickly sat up with him and placed a hand on his arm. “Ugh! No, I don't think that! I think you would do your job _too_ well! I need room to do _my_ job, and I'm afraid that I couldn't do my job effectively with you there. I'm sorry.”

Cullen stood up, slipping from her reach. He spoke as he walked away. “I understand, Herald. You won't have to worry about me keeping you from doing your job. Have a safe journey, Herald.”

“Cullen, wait!”

She stood up, but did not chase after him, but watched his red cloak wave with his stride. Ciara's heart ached watching him leave, but she knew she spoke the truth. She just hoped their friendship could mend after this Templar business was dealt with. Still, she felt herself getting angry at the man's reaction, as she stomped off toward her cabin.

“Fenedhis lasa!”

 


	20. Is There Enough Preparation for War?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara Lavellan prepares to enter Therinfall Redoubt, as behind the scenes conflicts are discussed between Cullen and the Nightingale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a LONG time since I've updated. Believe me, Ciara's story has never been far from my mind! I've moved, been through a lot of stuff, and both of my Beta readers have had serious personal problems of their own. With the help of new online friends, I finished this chapter. I hope I have the willpower to keep it up! 
> 
> I'm sorry if there are any errors... it's been a long time, and I wrote this without Beta readers.
> 
> Enjoy!

The following morning, as the sun crested the mountain and the morning fog began to burn off, Cullen sought out Leliana, finding her in her work tent outside the Chantry. He patiently waited while she gave instructions to several scouts, preparing the way for the Herald's journey to the Templar fortress. As the tent cleared of operatives, Cullen caught Leliana's eye as she stood before a large table, and the following grin sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. Clearing his throat, Cullen stepped beside the spymaster, glancing down at a rather detailed map of Therinfall Redoubt.

“Commander, good morning. I am surprised to see you here. Is there anything I can help you with?” Leliana's honeyed voice hid well the vicious killer that Cullen knew lay beneath the polished surface.

He turned to her, keeping his face as stoic as possible. “Sister Leliana, I've had the evening to consider the Herald's words.”

Leliana cocked an eyebrow up at the tall man, but said nothing.

Swiping a gloved hand across his neck, Cullen cleared his throat before continuing. “I understand why she does not wish for me to accompany her into the keep, and I agree with her. However, as leader of the Inquisition's forces, and the fact that this is an incredibly dangerous mission for anyone in the organization to undertake, I believe that we would be remiss to not take a company of soldiers, and I would lead them personally.”

Her face remained still, with the exception of her eyes making a variety of movements, ranging from squinting to being wide-open. “Why, Commander, are you asking permission, or informing me that you will be accompanying the Herald to Therinfall Redoubt?”

“I will not be going into the keep, itself. I, and my soldiers, will remain outside while the Herald conducts her business inside.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I feel uneasy about this whole mess, Leliana. I cannot, in good conscious, allow a group of four people enter a proverbial dragon's den without backup!”

Leliana's face softened into a small smile. “Don't worry, Commander. I had no intention of allowing her to do this alone.” She motioned to a green line near to the keep on the map. “I have already come to the conclusion that our forces should be nearby in case the Herald is in need of assistance. I believe this ridge here would be the perfect place to hide the mass of our soldiers from the keep, while being within range to come to the Herald's aid in little time.”

Cullen had a difficult time tearing his eyes from the line on the map as his voice dropped to a thick murmur. “Thank you, Leliana.”

The woman chuckled at his side. “Do not thank me yet, Commander. I have yet to tell the Herald of this decision. We do not know how she will react!”

“I can tell her, if you'd prefer.”

“Oh, do not worry. I can handle myself, Commander. But if I were you, I'd make myself scarce for the next hour or so.” Leliana stepped away, scooping up her coat before walking out of the tent, toward Ciara's cabin.

* * *

 

Ciara was already awake, anxious to get started toward the Templar stronghold. She carefully packed her saddlebags, ensuring to bring plenty of healing equipment. For the better part of the previous day, she had toiled over her weapons, honing her daggers to razor edges, and fitting as many arrows into her quiver as possible. She had just fitted her daggers in their sheaths when there was a knock and Leliana pushed open the heavy oak door.

“Herald, I'm glad to see that you are already awake. How are you feeling today?”

Sensing that the woman had information to give her that she was dancing around, Ciara narrowed her eyes at the spymaster. “Why do I suspect that this isn't a social visit?”

Leliana gave a chuckle as she shut the door behind her. “Perhaps you were a bard before the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Either that, or you are naturally good at reading people. I do, in fact, have something to speak to you about.”

“Why not call me to the war room, then? What's going on, Leliana?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, the redhead leaned against the door. “After listening to all sides of conversations yesterday, I have studied the area around Therinfall Redoubt for a convenient location to hide a company of our soldiers for your protection.”

Ciara huffed a breath. “I thought I said I don't want to go with a lot of people! If I show up with more than a few companions, the Lord Seeker may not even let me into the keep for negotiations.”

“I'm not sending you with our soldiers, Herald.” Leliana spoke softly, as if guiding a stubborn child. “You shall go to the Keep with only your companions. However, we will discretely move a company of our soldiers out of sight of the Keep, but close enough to assist you if things go sour. I have sent invitations for several Orlesian nobles to meet you at Therinfall, so as to keep the Templars busy watching them, instead of looking out for our forces. It is a sound tactic, Herald.”

“Oh yeah? What is the excuse for the nobles to be there?” Ciara mimicked Leliana's stance, leaning against the opposite wall.

“Since the Lord Seeker's demonstration in Val Royeaux, many nobles of Orlais are scrambling, hoping that they will be able to bring the Templars back for their protection. Because of your good works, you've earned respect with some of these nobles. They wish to use you to get to the Lord Seeker. That is fine, we shall let them. But at the same time, we shall be using them to annoy the Templars enough to not notice what is going on outside the Keep's walls.”

Silence reigned over the room for several moments while both women eyed the other, judging honesty and responses equally.

Finally, Ciara seemed to deflate with a long exhale. “You realize if the Templars find out about our hidden soldiers, they'll likely kill me.”

She grinned wolfishly. “I will have sent out our own scouts to, ahem, silence their own scouts. And believe me when I say our own have been much more sufficiently trained than theirs.” Looking down, and quite thoughtful, she resumed: “The thought had occurred to me that yes, should our forces be discovered, it would endanger the operation. Rest assured, Herald, I will never needlessly risk your life. You are too valuable to the Inquisition.”

Ciara chuckled back at her. “Oh, well, so long as I'm valuable, I'll have to take your word for it!”

Leliana stood away from her spot on the door. “Well then, if there is nothing else, I will ready our soldiers to leave immediately, so they can get a head start on your journey this evening.” She turned to leave.

“Is Cullen going with the soldiers?” Ciara spoke to the woman's back.

She turned her head to look at the Elf over her shoulder. “Of course, Herald. He is the Commander of our forces, and being an ex-Templar, can give advanced directives on the spot as needed.”

Ciara sighed loudly. “I guess you're right. At least this may placate him, somewhat.” She looked the trained assassin in the eyes, pleadingly. “Just do me a favor and keep him from barging in at the slightest inclination?”

Leliana turned around to face her fully, even taking a couple of steps toward the slight woman. “Herald, I know you worry for him. He worries for you too. But both of you need to understand this: We are at war. We cannot afford to worry ourselves into submission. Or worse, inaction. Both of you need to trust the other to work efficiently, or our little organization will never be successful.” She placed a gentle hand on Ciara's arm. “His job is to lead our soldiers in order to protect you. I believe he will do his job to perfection, knowing the cost if he fails.”

With another grin, Leliana did not wait for a response from the slack-jawed Herald. She spun on a heeled boot and left the cabin.

Staring at the door the spymaster had closed behind her, Ciara's emotions warred with each other. She felt both anger at Cullen being allowed near the Templar stronghold, while at the same time, she felt relief that she would have assistance nearby if she needed it. She strongly hoped that it was an over-cautious precaution, but something at the back of her mind made her thank Leliana for coming up with this strategy.

Turning back toward the table laden with her gear, Ciara attached her weapons and grabbed her saddlebags. While pulling on her gloves, she stared for a long time at the green mark on her hand, damning it for all it meant. She was going into a Templar Stronghold, and she wasn't even sure if they knew that she had mage abilities yet.

She took a deep breath and leaned on the counter, her eyes rapidly sweeping side to side as her mind raced with possible scenarios. After a few moments, she forced her eyes to still while she closed her lids. Breathing deeply, her emerald eyes opened. With a new resolve, she threw her bags over her shoulder and left her cabin to head toward the stables.

* * *

 

While walking through Haven, Ciara had the uneasy feeling of being watched. Glancing around, she found that Solas was studying her from the porch of his cabin. As it was practically on her way to the stables, she detoured slightly to speak with him.

It had seemed over the past couple of days that he had been avoiding her, and it was becoming annoying. She would see glimpses of his bald head disappearing a building, or smell a light wafting of his favorite incense, but when she had actively looked for him, the mage was nowhere to be found. Now that he was right in front of her, she was not going to let him get away.

Indeed, Solas did not bother to avert his gaze, and watching her stride toward him, he stood his ground, allowing her to come to him. Word had made it around Haven that the Herald and Commander were arguing, yet again. He was slightly ashamed that he was elated over the matter. As she neared, he spoke casually, the lightest of grins gracing his face.

“Good day, Da'len. I have been informed by Sister Leliana that we are leaving for the Templar stronghold this evening. I must admit, I am surprised that you would seek contact with them so soon after your ordeal.”

Stopping a few feet from him, Ciara leaned against the wall of his cabin, maintaining eye contact. “Yeah, well I thought about it for a long time. It seems like the best option right this very moment.” The glint in her eyes darkened considerably with a spoken thought: “Besides, I have unfinished business with a certain Templar we believe to be there.”

“I wish you would reconsider freeing the mages from their Tevinter slavers, Da'len.” He cast his eyes downward, gently shaking his head.

She scoffed loudly, then muttered “Damned if I do, damned if I don't.”

The words drew his attention back to her face. “Why is that?”

“No matter what decision I make, it's going to make _someone_ unhappy!” She threw her hands in the air in frustration. “I can't win! Go for the Templars, upset you and Leliana. Go for the mages, and Cullen and Cassandra hate my guts. I don't even know why I'm the one making these decisions!”

Listening to her rant, Solas' disappointment dissolved and he reached out, placing a hand on her upper arm, squeezing just hard enough to get her attention, though she refused to open her eyes. “You are their Herald of Andraste, and the only way the Inquisition has to closing the Rifts. Take pride, Lethallan. To have a human organization looking up to one of the People...it has not been done often, and not in such a long time.

Ciara took a deep breath before opening her emerald eyes to his dusty blues. “For what it's worth, Solas, I hope to free the mages as soon as this mess with the Templars is dealt with... if we still can.”

“If we still can, yes” He looked saddened, slightly.

She gently shook herself from his grip. “Let's get going, I'd like to get this over with as quickly, and hopefully as painless as possible.”

He nodded sagely, before following her to the stables to gather their horses.

* * *

 

Several days later, and Ciara found herself standing outside the rather impressive gates of Therinfall Redoubt, her trio of companions in tow. Looking around at multitudes of nobles from both Orlais and Ferelden, she had to swallow the bile rising at the back of her throat at the strangers open-mouthed stares. “Rabbit, knife-ear, savage” were among the slanderous words that hit her sensitive ears, causing her cheeks to turn pink with a stifled rage.

As if feeling her anger, Iron Bull nudged her gently, almost accidentally, but enough to get her attention. She looked up at the mountain of Qunari and he tilted his massively horned, one-eyed head down to her with a grin, somehow putting the punitive elf much more at ease.

Flanking her other side, was the fully armored Cassandra, with Solas watching her back, still slightly injured, but never showing. The foursome made for quite the visual spectacle for all of the nobles who had rarely, if ever, seen battle-ready people, and fewer still had ever seen a Qunari up close, and were unscrupulously staring at him.

With even a little more courage, Ciara strode to the front gates of Therinfall, when she was addressed by a man with a thoroughly Orlesian accent.

“Herald of Andraste! Lord Abernache, honored to participate. It is not unlike the second dispersal of the Dales!”

Ciara felt a strong grip on her arm from behind her before she could reach for her dagger to slit the ignorant man's throat. Half a moment later, she wondered why she nearly reacted in such a way. His words meant nothing to her, that she could remember.

Luckily, the man seemed to fail her subtle action and continued talking, though she did not listen to the majority of what he said until he mentioned “ Care to mark the moment? You have then Orlesian houses walking with you!”

It left her dumbfounded for a moment, staring at him, until Solas pressed a hand into her back, gently. “The first of many inspirational and influential partnerships, I hope.” She managed with a hopefully passable fake smile.

They walked together toward the main gate, when a sudden movement in the upper ramparts caught Ciara's attention, when she swung her head to the area, she was confused to see nothing there. The man continued to ramble on about their agreement to work together when he suddenly cut a sentence short. “Oh, it seems they've sent someone to meet you!”

A young man, in full Templar armor walked up to the group. Before he could speak, the Orlesean spoke once more. “May I introduce Knight-Templar Sir Delrin Barris, second son of Bann Jevrin Barris of Ferelden, I am honored to introduce myself...”

The Templar hurried past Abernache, and stood directly in front of Ciara. The look in his eyes was deperate. “I was the one who sent word to Cullen. He said you work to close the Breach in the Veil. I was unaware you were bringing such... lofty company.”

Abernache seemed to be offended, and started speaking to the Knight-Templar, but was ignored.

Barris continued: “This... promise of status has garnered the attention of the Lord Seeker... beyond sense. The sky burns with magic, but he ignores all calls to action until your company arrives.”

At his words, Ciara felt the mark in her hand tingle with power, and she clenched her fist tightly.

“This is highly unusual, in an emergency, if there's no other recourse, he can wait for some consensus, but he should be restoring the Templars to order.” Cassandra had stepped forward and looked concerned.

Sir Barris looked between the two, landing his eyes on the Herald once more. “He has taken command, permanently.”

Stepping from foot to foot, Cassandra looked ever more at unease. “If he feels there is a Holy Mandate...”  
  
“That is what the Lord-Seeker claims, and our Commanders parrot him.” Barris had now abandoned looking at Cassandra entirely, and was eyeing Ciara with near panic in his features. He sighed heavily, then stepped directly in front of the Elf, causing her entire entourage to tighten in closer to her.

He noticed the movement, but made no move to retreat. Instead, he spoke to Ciara in a hushed tone. “The Lord-Seeker's movements make no sense. He promised to restore the Order's honor, then marched us here to wait? Templars should know their duty, even when held from it.” The last sentence was said with a thinly veiled feeling of anger.

He took a breath, visibly calming himself. “Win over the Lord-Seeker, and every able-bodied knight will help seal the breach.”

Ciara nodded sullenly, before looking the scared looking Knight-Captain in the eye. “Is the Knight-Commander Denam here, following the Lord-Seeker, as well?”

Looking thrown off by the question, Barris cleared his throat. “Why yes, the Knight-Commander is here, but he has sequestered himself with the Lord-Seeker since his appearance a couple of days ago.

Ciara smiled gently. “That's all I need to know. Kindly show us to the Lord-Seeker for an audience.”

  
With a quick salute, Knight-Captain Barris turned on a heel and commanded the closed gates be opened.

* * *

 

Across the valley, the rest of the Bull's Chargers, as well as a full company of the Inquisition's soldiers hid from sight, anxious for their Herald to return unscathed.

Commander Cullen paced back and forth until a clear path was beaten into the grass beneath his feet. His gloved hands busied themselves between holding the hilt of his sword, swiping his neck, and combing the mess of hair from his face.

“Don't worry, Commander, we have already 'dispatched' the few scouts they had in the area, and replaced them with our own. The Herald will be fine!” Sister Leliana intermittently stared at the worried man, in between sharpening her blades and testing her bow.

The man did not bother to slow his pacing. “She's practically alone, and if something were to happen to her, the only thing we could do is retaliate! There's nothing we could to do protect her!”

The red-head looked up at him with a softness in her eyes that belied her true nature. “With the Iron Bull with her, she's anything but alone. His mere presence will cause any of the Templars to think twice before doing anything to her. Besides, all of our soldiers are prepared to assault the keep at a moment's notice. The shock that would cause should buy her some time, in the very least.”

She stood to grasp him by the arm firmly, causing him to stop suddenly and spin on the shorter woman. “Cullen, you should not wear yourself out with pointless prancing around! If she is in need of help after all, we will need you at your full strength.”

The fire in his eyes that lit when she grabbed him ebbed. “You're right, of course.” He sat down heavily on the nearest bag of supplies with a heavy sigh. “I just can't believe she's willing to do this, so soon after what they did to her, and while knowing the man behind such animalistic acts is in that keep. I just don't know what she's thinking!”

Her spine chilling grin returned as she stared him directly in his amber eyes. “Perhaps that is exactly what she is thinking.”

His eyes widened “You think she's here for revenge, not to get the Templars on the Inquisition's side.”

“The thought has occurred to me.”

The fire in his eyes reignited as he stood, grabbed his lion helm and looked down at the grinning woman. “In that case, I will ready our forces to storm the Keep at the first sign of trouble.”

Leliana said nothing as the soldier stormed out of the tent, but after he was gone, she sighed to herself. “So much for keeping that promise to the Herald.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fan fiction. Please give your honest opinions, as they could reflect future chapters! Thanks for your kudos and comments!
> 
> The next chapter will be up as soon as my wonderful Betas have a chance to look it over. Thank you!
> 
> ~Ciarasteina
> 
> P.S. My Beta reader Crystallyne is in the middle of her own epic piece. Please head on over to hers if you have time and check it out (parts are NSFW)...  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3589317  
> And her one shot... with her OC and Fenris... HOT!!! http://archiveofourown.org/works/3814996
> 
> My other Beta reader, DeviantRhapsode has also written a couple of one-shots, and they are both STELLAR!!! I'm trying to convince her to add chapters to her newest one! Enjoy!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3602757  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3823522


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